Negligent Homicide
by Fingersnaps
Summary: An alternate version of Shooter (11:22), begins immediately after the cat pee spraying incident and goes AU from the outset. Within will be a modicum of case-file, some Tim whump, lots of team angst, and absolutely NO character bashing!
1. Chapter 1

7

**Negligent Homicide**

**Chapter One**

"Man, it stinks in here, when we get back I'm having this car fumigated."

"Quit whining, if you hadn't been so free and easy with the cat-pee spray I wouldn't stink so bad. You should have remembered who was driving me over here."

"Well we're here now, so how about you get out so I can let in some fresh air."

Tim pushed the door open and stepped out into the parking lot; Tony had parked well away from where most of the homeless men and women had set up camp, far enough that he wouldn't be spotted, but close enough if Tim needed help. Glad to be out of the car Tim took a deep breath, even with the windows open the car had gotten smelly real fast, if only Tony hadn't added the extra sprays to the already noxious mix he had on his clothes, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad; but with Tony, less was never more.

"We'll do a final comms-check when you're round the corner." Tony was looking forward to getting some of the stink out of the sedan, and he hadn't needed Tim's reminder to tell him why the smell was so overwhelming. "Hey Tim, back in Abby's lab…"

"Leave it Tony, we have a job to do; just don't forget what I told you, I will get you for this."

"Okay, I guess I deserve payback, time to get this show on the road, and remember, first sign of anything hinky you walk away."

Tim gave a rueful smile. "Hinky? Look at me, more to the point smell me. What we have here is walking, talking hinky." With a quick wave Tim shuffled off, his unsteady gait accentuated by a pair of shoes two sizes too big. As he disappeared from view Tony checked his watch and made a note of the time. "Comms-check Tim, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear Tony; I'm almost there, if I get anything I'll call. Out."

It took almost two hours, but eventually Tim got someone to talk, although their conversation started off on the wrong foot.

"Kept himself to himself did Blue, same as the rest of us. You get my drift?"

"Sure…I mean him no harm; I owe him. He helped me out of a jam once, just wanted to…I don't know, see if I could do anything for him I guess."

The stocky man still didn't look convinced, but he shrugged his shoulders and pointed toward a food truck parked at the end of the block. "See the tall, skinny guy back of the line? Don't think he knows much about Blue either, but he's tight with Goliath, and everyone round here knows Goliath knows everyone; if you want to find Blue, you need to talk with the big guy."

Tim resisted the urge to offer the man any money by way of thanks, after all he was supposed to be homeless too; instead he offered his hand. "Thanks for your help…didn't catch your name."

"That's 'cos I didn't throw it out there. Jonesy, round these parts that's what they call me."

"Thanks Jonesy; you want me to bring you something from the truck?"

"I already ate." Without a salutation he turned on his heel and walked away, pushing his shopping cart as he went. Tim joined the line at the food truck, trying to get close to the man Jonesy had pointed out. It wasn't until they were almost at the serving hatch that Tim managed to engage him in conversation.

"You're looking for Goliath?" Tim could almost see the shutters coming down and hurried to reassure the man.

"Only to ask him about another guy, Blue; I owe him, wanted to pay my debt."

The man visibly relaxed and risked a brief smile. "Goliath's your man alright, but you'll have to wait, he got a bed in the shelter, won't be out until 06.30 tomorrow."

"Sounds like you're a military man."

"In another life." He reached up for the Styrofoam dish and breathed in the appetising aroma. "Lasagne tonight, tastes as good as it smells." He handed the dish to Tim and turned back to get one for himself. "We get a dessert and coffee too, they only come three times a week, but it's worth the wait." He looked hesitant, but smiled again at Tim. "If you like, you can sit with me, I know a good spot."

His first instinct had been to ditch the food in the nearest dumpster and get Tony to take him back to headquarters, but this man, a man who had nothing, had offered a total stranger a hot meal before he'd taken a plate for himself. "Sounds good, I'm new round here, don't really know my way around."

"Okay, follow me."

Tim hung back a little so he could contact Tony and let him know he'd most likely be staying the night. "It's going to look pretty strange if I disappear for the night and then reappear in the morning."

"Copy that Tim, I'm heading out at 20.00, Dorneget will be taking over; same rules apply, anything hinky, call"

"Will do, see you tomorrow; out."

Tim's night wasn't the most comfortable he'd ever spent, but it was a big improvement on the rock-hard floor of a prison in Somalia, that would most likely always rate as the worst place he'd ever spent the night. His new found friend had proved to be good company, although if the conversation strayed to anything personal he always steered it toward more general subjects. The lasagne had been good, much better than Tim had expected; the apple pie and coffee had been even better and Tim could understand why the food truck's visits were so popular. They'd even been given a sandwich for tomorrow's breakfast.

Early in the evening Tim had risked asking his companion his name, knowing the best he was likely to get was a nickname. "Take a look at me, how tall do you think I am?"

"Six three maybe."

"Good guess, so what do you think they call me?"

Tim grinned, it had to be. "Shorty?"

"Got it in one." Shorty was smiling too. "How about you?"

"Mac, they call me Mac."

"Seriously? You couldn't come up with something better than that?"

"Guess it is kinda lame, but I'm used to it now." Tim leaned against the concrete wall. "How long have you been here?"

"Too long; you sure ask a lot of questions."

"Always been nosey, made my dad crazy when I always wanted to know everything about…well, everything I guess."

"And you still ended up here."

"Yeah…Shorty, don't you ever get curious about the people here, where they're from, how they got to this place?"

Shorty looked around, squinting as he tried to focus in the hazy glow from the few working streetlights. "Curiosity can be dangerous round here, most folks keep pretty much to themselves. You should try it."

Tim figured it was time he gave the questions a rest, didn't want to blow his cover before he had the chance to talk with Goliath. "Guess I'll start right now."

Shorty nodded. "You're a fast study, about time we were getting some shut-eye; where's your stuff?"

"I…wasn't expecting to be sleeping here, my stuff…it's the other side of the river, where I usually sleep."

"Then it's lucky for you I have a spare sleeping bag." Shorty took out his own bedding and then handed a thin, grubby sleeping bag to Tim, he took it gratefully, the night was likely to be chill, and he wasn't so proud he'd refuse warmth regardless of the fact it came with added grime. Tim had made himself as comfortable as possible and managed to get a few hours sleep. Even with the sleeping bag he'd woken shivering in the dark hour before dawn, he'd pulled the skimpy covering closer to him and given thanks that at least he hadn't gone to sleep on an empty stomach. No sooner had he gone back to sleep than someone was shaking him.

"Mac, hey Mac! It's 06.00, if you want to see Goliath you should get up and get moving."

"Okay Shorty, I hear you." Tim stretched out his cramped limbs and slowly got to his feet, vowing never again to take his comfortable bed for granted. "Do we have time to use the washroom again?"

"Sure, it's on the way, don't forget your sandwich, the food truck won't be here tonight."

"I'm good…had plenty last night, why don't you take it? There's a guy who owes me a meal back at my other place." It almost broke Tim to see the joy on the other man's face, a sandwich…so much we take for granted, Tim promised he'd do better, just get this case done and he'd find something he could do to help.

They made use of the public washroom at a nearby gas station, taking care not to be seen; Tim hadn't been surprised when Shorty told him the staff at the gas station were less than welcoming to members of the homeless community. By 06.25 they were waiting outside the shelter, Tim spotted Goliath the minute he walked out the door. There was no sense of irony in his name, Goliath was a man-mountain who looked as if he could knock most men on their backsides without even trying; it would definitely be a good idea to stay on the right side of this guy. Luckily Shorty was able to smooth the way and as soon as Goliath knew 'Mac' wasn't looking to do Blue any harm, he was more than willing to give Tim Blue's last known whereabouts.

Tim thanked Goliath for the information and turned to Shorty. "You're helping me more than you know, if there's ever anything I can do for you."

"Doubt we'll meet again Mac; I hope you find Blue, a man should always pay his debts."

"I intend to, that's a promise." As he headed back to meet Tony, Tim vowed when the case was done he'd return and see if there was any way he could help Shorty and Goliath…he walked past so many men and women, all living their lives on the streets, surely this wasn't what any of them would have chosen.

"Morning McHobo. Can't say you smell a heck of a lot sweeter."

"Thanks Tony, and a very good morning to you too."

"You get anything useful?"

"Yeah, there's a clinic we need to look at, but before I do anything I'm going to hit the shower."


	2. Chapter 2

7

**Chapter Two**

_Two days later_

Tim was walking familiar territory, and seeing familiar faces, but the reaction to his presence was very different. Today he was NCIS Special Agent Tim McGee, not the virtually invisible Mac who had spent a long night on these inhospitable streets. The case had been closed and Lorin Davis would be paying for his crimes, for the lives he had taken, as for Dr Novak, it wasn't likely he'd ever practice medicine again. It had been a satisfactory conclusion to a tragic case, but for Tim things felt unfinished. He'd told Abby she couldn't help everyone and that was true, only…the men who'd helped him get to the truth about Blue, and Sergeant Roe; maybe there was something he could do to help them. He headed for Shorty's pitch, trying to ignore the less than friendly looks he was getting from everyone he passed; he'd taken time on his lunch break to visit, and had grabbed a burger for Shorty and Goliath on the way over. When he arrived Shorty was pacing around, his eyes fixed on the ground, muttering something Tim couldn't quite hear.

"Hey Shorty, you okay?"

"Me? Who's asking? Go away and mind your own business!"

"Its Mac, you remember, from a couple of nights ago?"

Shorty stopped and stared into Tim's eyes. "Mac? How come you're all cleaned up? No wait, you were never one of us, I should have figured it out, too many questions."

"I'm sorry I had to deceive you, but Blue…we had to find out what happened to him, the photographer too. I'm NCIS, that's-"

"I know what it is, you're a Navy cop?"

"That's right, Tim McGee." Tim held out his hand and for a moment he thought Shorty wasn't going to take it. "Mac…guess your name wasn't so far off after all…" He shook Tim's hand and turned away again, looking into the distance.

"Is something wrong, you seem…?"

Shorty grabbed Tim's hand and looked him in the eye again. "You could maybe help…Goliath, he took sick and they…he went in the ambulance, could you ask at the hospital, see how he's doing?"

"I'll call right now."

"No! No…you should see him, he was real sick…like Deuce, they took him yesterday, please Mac, if you could just tell me how he's doing."

"Okay, calm down; which hospital, do you know?"

Shorty shrugged. "United Medical Center I guess, it's closest and they take people who can't pay."

"I'll check. Why don't you come too?"

"Not me; they treat us if we get sick, but they don't like us hanging around the place." He looked defeated, as if the gravity of his life situation had just hit home.

"He'll be okay Shorty, they'll look after him."

"I guess…If you get word, would you come back, let me know how he's doing?"

"Sure, if I can't get back today I'll come in the morning on my way to work."

Shorty smiled briefly and shook Tim's hand. "Thanks Mac…Agent McGee, it's easy to feel invisible here, even though you deceived us before it's good to know there are a few people who still care."

Tim thought of Gibbs and Vance, how the pictures of the homeless veterans had affected them so deeply, of Abby, taking time to help Emily, of Tony and Ellie, working so hard to find out what had happened to Blue, and to bring his killer to justice. "More than you know Shorty." He handed Shorty the burgers. "Take these, I'll call back as soon as I can."

Tim called UMC to confirm Goliath had been admitted there, even without a name the ER staff member he'd spoken to had recognised Goliath from Tim's description. "He's been taken to the ICU, we don't have any contact information for him, if you can help we might be able to trace his family."

"I'll see what I can do." Tim got information about visiting times and hurried down to the lab. "Abs, I know you're busy but if you get any time…"

"Spit it out Timmy, what do you need?"

He'd explained about Goliath and just as he knew she would, Abby offered to help. "I'll check Sergeant Roe's pictures, if there's one of Goliath I can run facial recognition, and if you get prints at the hospital, I mean, if they let you…"

"I'm pretty sure they will, not so sure Goliath will like it, but I'll ask him when I go visit. Thanks for this Abs, there'll be a CafPow with you soon."

She had found a picture, but so far the software hadn't come up with a match, looked as if Tim would have to get fingerprints before they'd find out who Goliath really was. It was after 7pm before Tim managed to get to the hospital, and later still by the time he'd found a parking spot, he checked in at ICU reception and after a short wait he was introduced to Doctor Sangakhara, a slight, weary looking young man of Asian descent.

"Can you tell me how he's doing?"

"I am afraid he is in a very poor situation, his organs are failing."

"What? How could this happen? I was talking with him just two days ago, he seemed strong as an ox then."

The doctor sighed, he was already almost resigned to losing another patient. "We cannot say for sure, it could be drugs…drink, the life these people lead, not many of them live to a ripe old age. We are waiting for test results, but I fear the prognosis is not good."

"Could I see him?" Tim was in a state of disbelief, how was this possible? Admitted Goliath's lifestyle wouldn't gain approval from the Surgeon General's office, but he looked strong, with no obvious signs of sickness. Maybe if he saw him, Tim would believe it.

Five minutes later, after staring in shocked silence at Goliath, attached to wires and tubes, he believed it. "Is there anything I can do…if you need someone to settle his bill?"

The doctor shook his head. "That will not be necessary. Rest assured Agent McGee, we will do everything we can for him."

"I know you will. I was wondering, he may have family out there…to get an ID, I could take his fingerprints, I'll be sure not to disturb the IV lines."

"I think that will be a very good idea, to give this man his proper name; yes, a worthy ambition. Please do what you have to do."

Tim took out the mobile fingerprint scanner and very gently pressed Goliath's thumb and forefinger to the pad. He started the search running and with one last look at Goliath he went back to the ICU reception desk where Dr Sangakhara was waiting; Tim reached into his pocket for one of his business cards. "If there's any change, would you have someone call me?"

"Of course, but I think I should warn you, any news is likely to be bad."

Tim headed back to Shorty's patch, relieved to find he hadn't turned in for the night. Shorty listened intently as Tim gave him the news about Goliath.

"Thanks Mac, he's a good guy, I'll say a prayer for him."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that; have you had anything to eat tonight?"

"Oh yeah, the food truck came…" Shorty hunkered down into his sleeping bag. "I'm pretty tired Mac, think I'll turn in."

Tim stooped down so he could look Shorty in the eye. "I'll call back when I have any more news, or maybe after work tomorrow you could come to the hospital with me, to see him for yourself."

"Maybe…thanks for doing this Mac, if Goliath has any family they'll feel better knowing someone was looking out for him."

"It's not much, just wish I could do more…Shorty, do you have family?" For a minute there was silence and Tim thought he'd gone too far, then Shorty sighed. "No…never knew my parents, brought up in foster care, never married…the Corps was my family and when I left…" He laughed humourlessly. "You see how good I am managing on my own…I really am tired."

"Then I'll let you get some sleep. I'll come by before work."

"See you then, and McGee, I want you to know, what you're doing, you might not think it's much, but it means a lot."

"Least I could do Shorty, goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow."

"'Night."

Tim walked back to his car, his head spinning; he felt so helpless, all these people needed help and support he knew that, but it shook him to the core that so many of them seemed to be former military personnel. Men and women who had put their lives on the line for their country, and how had their country repaid them? It was a huge problem, and he wasn't in a position to change things overnight, but if he could help one or two; if Goliath pulled through he'd do everything he could to help him. As for Shorty, if he was a former Marine Tim knew he wouldn't be alone in trying to do the best for him.

_Next morning, 04.30_

Tim had spent a restless night, tossing and turning, unable to enjoy the benefits of his comfortable bed because he couldn't get the faces of the homeless out of his head.

After a quick shower and shave, it felt good to be clean-shaven again, he called the hospital. Unsurprisingly he was put on hold, so he checked the fingerprint scanner while he was waiting, there was a hit on Goliath's prints. It turned out Goliath was an army veteran, Alan Whately, medically discharged after a roadside bomb in Afghanistan had left him deaf in his right ear. Tim sighed, another one who'd slipped through the net.

"Hello, Agent McGee."

"I'm still here."

"Sorry for the delay, I had to get permission from Dr Sangakhara to give you the news. I'm afraid he…Goliath, he died at 3.50 this morning."

Tim stared at the picture of Corporal Whately on the scanner, he looked so strong, invincible, now he was gone, but at least Tim could give him a name. "I'm so sorry to hear that; would you tell the doctor I got an ID for Goliath, his name is Alan Whately, I'll email his records to you when I get to work."

"Thank you, it's always so sad when we have to issue a John Doe death certificate."

Tim got the doctor's email address, and with a heavy heart he set off to tell Shorty the bad news. It was a little after 05.30 when Tim trod the increasingly familiar path toward Shorty's pitch. He wasn't surprised to see Shorty still sleeping, and he felt bad about having to wake him with bad news, maybe he should come back later. No, it was better Shorty heard it from him than through street scuttlebutt. He leaned down and gently shook the older man. "Hey Shorty, it's Mac, I have news."

There was no movement, not a sound, Tim knelt down to get a closer look, he pulled back the sleeping bag so he could see Shorty's face. "Oh no, Shorty!" His heart was beating faster but even as he felt for a pulse, he knew it was useless; he'd seen eyes staring fixedly into nothingness too often not to know when someone was dead. His first instinct was to close Shorty's eyes, give him at least the illusion of peace, but he knew it wasn't possible. Until the police and medical examiner got here he wouldn't touch Shorty again, but he could say a prayer; as he prayed he also made a promise, he'd find out why Goliath and Shorty had died, and he'd make sure they were treated in death with the dignity and honour they'd been denied in the last years of their lives.


	3. Chapter 3

8

**Negligent Homicide**

My grateful thanks to everyone who has followed/favourited this story. I have sent my personal thanks to everyone who left a review allowing me to do so. My thanks also to 'earthdragon', I'm glad you like the team aspect, it's something I love to write and 'Grace'; this won't be a bashing story but there won't be Tony whump either, I whumped him in my last multi-chapter fic, there'll be Tony angst, but no whump.

Here's the next chapter, not many answers, but a few more questions…

_Chapter Three_

He waited for the police, taking care not to disturb any potential evidence. "We'll get to the bottom of this Shorty, I promise." This death, coming so soon after Goliath, and didn't Shorty tell him another homeless man had gone to the hospital the day before Goliath, what was his name? Deuce, that was it; all this death, it wasn't right. Maybe in the winter the streets would claim so many victims, the cold could be a killer, but in late spring, something was very wrong.

Tim called Gibbs to let him know he'd be late, they didn't have an active case so Gibbs told him to take all the time he needed. It seemed to take forever for the Coroner to arrive but it didn't take long for Tim to get permission to take Shorty's prints, and a promise that if the dead man turned out to be a Marine the Coroner would turn the body over to NCIS.

The print scanner didn't take long to give Tim the answer he wanted; Sergeant Robert Mitchell, honourably discharged from the US Marine Corps in 2010. Tim put in a call to Ducky and as soon as the ME knew his Metro counterpart was prepared to hand over the body he agreed to do the autopsy.

"Thanks Ducky, I'll let the EMTs go and wait with Shorty." Tim put in another call to Gibbs, assuring him he'd make up the time.

"No need Tim, you're watching out for a Marine, it's what we do."

It took only twenty minutes for the ME's truck to arrive. Ducky sighed as he looked down at the body. "So many who served their country, out here on the streets. Do you suspect foul play Timothy?"

"The truth Ducky? I don't know. The people out here, I know they're likely to be vulnerable, but this is the third sudden death I've heard about in a few days, it's not the middle of winter, just seems…hinky."

"Then Mr Palmer and I will take our Marine home and allow him to speak to us."

Tim collected Shorty's meagre belongings and put them in evidence bags, if Abby had time maybe she'd take a look, there just might be something here to help find out why he died.

_5 hours later_

"Way to go McLinebacker! That was some tackle."

Tim was pretty sure he had a great comeback line for Tony, if only he wasn't gasping for breath after racing to intercept a two hundred and forty pound ex-Marine. He snapped the cuffs on Costas Saragonis and with Tony's assistance got him to his feet. Tony led him toward the sedan. "Like I said before, we want to ask you some questions."

"No way; I think he broke my arm!"

"Boohoo, maybe next time a Federal Agent tells you to stop, you'll do it. Oh wait, there won't be a next time because you're going to prison for a very long time." Tony very carefully checked his own jawline, nothing was broken, but he was pretty sure he'd have a colourful bruise by morning; he hadn't seen the punch coming and it had left him playing catch up when Saragonis high-tailed it out of the warehouse. Gibbs and Ellie already had their hands full with another suspect who didn't want to come easy, and Agent Fordyce's team was busy cuffing the other three prisoners. He'd taken off after Saragonis, hoping Tim would at least be able to slow him down, Tim had done better than that, his flying tackle stopped Saragonis in his tracks.

As Tim finally recovered enough breath to gasp a few words, he had a question for Tony "Remind me again, why we couldn't just shoot these guys?"

"Director's orders, guess he thinks the information they have is worth the trouble of bringing them in alive." He saw a sly smirk cross Saragonis' face. "Hey Chuckles, remember you're only useful to us when you're talking, say nothing and I might just let my partner here use his gun."

"DiNozzo, McGee, get your suspect back to the Yard, we start the interrogations as soon as we get back."

"On it Boss."

The questioning had taken the rest of the day, but by the time they quit for the night the agents had names, shipment dates, ports of lading, everything they needed to bring down a well-established people trafficking operation. Gibbs had baulked at the idea of turning their hard-earned information over to the FBI, Fordyce's team had been working the case for weeks, but Vance was insistent,

"They have the resources Gibbs, NCIS would be stretched to the limit taking on two of the shipments, let alone all eight. The women on these ships, some of them little more than children, if we fail them…"

"Okay Leon; the stakes are high. I'll call Fornell, not going to like it, but I'll do it."

The rest of the team hadn't been too happy either, but just as Gibbs had, they saw the logic behind the Director's decision.

"We've done all we can, go home people, take an extra hour in the morning. Hey McGee, that means you."

"One second Boss, Ducky said he'd email me the post mortem results, you know on Sergeant Mitchell."

"Okay, just don't lose track of the time, one hour is all I'm giving you tomorrow."

Tim opened the message from Ducky, it didn't detain him long, preliminary results indicated arterial thrombosis, a blood clot leading to heart failure, death would be almost instantaneous. It wasn't much, but Tim was relieved Mitchell hadn't suffered at the end, he read on. They had no medical history as yet, so Ducky decided to do a full panel of blood tests to be sure he hadn't missed anything. The samples had gone to Abby, and results should be in by lunch-time tomorrow; Tim sent a quick reply to thank Ducky. He switched off his computer and headed home, the prospect of a long soak in his tub giving fresh purpose to his weary steps.

_Next Morning_

Tim glanced up at the sound of the elevator announcing its arrival, an unusually rumpled Senior Field Agent walked slowly across the bullpen floor. "Ouch Tony, that looks sore."

Tony's fingers played gingerly across the vivid bruise on his jaw. "Not likely to be eating corn-on-the cob anytime soon. How about you? You're not exactly glowing this morning."

Tim leaned back in his chair and winced as his aching limbs protested. "I need to get more work in the gym, can't remember chasing bad guys hurting so bad."

"Don't sweat it Tim, you got the guy and we can't all be super-fit Phys-Ed majors."

"Thanks Tony…I think. All the same, I think I'm going to do more running, don't want to feel this way again."

The morning was spent writing up their reports on the previous day's events; Tony had gone out for coffee and after he'd handed Ellie and Gibbs their drinks he gave Tim his cup with a wry smile on his face. "Doesn't it make you sick these two look so chipper? Kind of rubbing salt into the wounds, you know?"

Tim had been doing his best to concentrate on his report and ignore the nagging pain in his shoulder, he hadn't been looking too closely at the other members of the team. As he accepted his coffee he took a look at them; true enough they looked hale and hearty.

"Thanks Tony, they look good alright, better than us anyhow, not sure I'd feel any better if they were covered in bruises."

"I know, just wish she didn't have to be so…perky." Tony gave one of his lop-sided grins and settled back at his desk.

They worked on, their quiet industry interrupted occasionally by a quick question to check on details for the report, or the phone calls that always punctuated a day in the bullpen. Tim had been hoping one of his calls would be from Ducky or Abby, so far he'd heard nothing, he glanced at his watch, 12.30, the blood test results should be ready soon, he'd try to be patient and keep busy; after all, as Abby was fond of telling him, you can't rush the science.

"Ellie asked you a question Tim, what do you want for lunch?"

"I was miles away Tony, sorry. Thanks Ellie, but I'm not really hungry; I could use another coffee if that's okay."

Ellie frowned. "Not hungry. How can it be lunchtime and you're not hungry, I'm famished!"

"Like that's hot news Bishop." Tony was smiling at the new member of their team, but as he looked at Tim again the smile was gone. "Tim, you feeling okay? You don't look so hot."

"I'm good, just tired, didn't sleep much last night."

"All the more reason you should eat. Soup, Tony's having soup because of his jaw, that's decided, I'll bring you soup." Without waiting for a response she went hurrying to the elevator.

Tony shook his head. "She's like a force of nature."

Tim smiled wryly. "Maybe we're just getting old Tony."

"Nah, we're not on top of our game today, but we'll bounce back. It's like…"

Whatever it was like would have to wait. Tim's phone rang and he hurried to answer, this could be the test results. "McGee. Hi Abs, sure I'm on my way." He got up as quickly as his aching limbs would allow. "Ducky and Abby have something."

"I figured." Gibbs had been watching Tim as he stood up, it was obvious he wasn't comfortable. "Tim, how hard did you hit Saragonis?"

"Not that hard, I think I slammed my shoulder on the ground when we fell. It'll be fine, all I need is another soak in the tub tonight. Sitting so long doesn't help I guess." He walked off, easing his aching muscles as he went.

"Tim; ask Ducky to take a look at your shoulder while you're down there."

"Really Boss, there's no…" Tim recognised Gibbs' expression and bowed to the inevitable. "On it."

Tim walked into Abby's lab unnoticed, she was standing beside Ducky and they were both engrossed by the image on the plasma. His biomedical skills might be rusty, but he recognised there was something very wrong with the blood sample being displayed on the screen. "Hey guys, is that Sho…Mitchell's blood?"

At the sound of his voice they both turned. "It is indeed Timothy, and you were right to have concerns. My word young man, sit down before you fall down." Ducky's focus shifted immediately from the case to the man in front of him.

Abby took one look at Tim and pushed a chair toward him. "Timmy, are you okay?"

"I wish people would stop asking; I'm fine, just sore from yesterday."

Abby looked him up and down, noting the dark shadows under his eyes, the pinched lips indicating he was in some pain, the way he was trying to nonchalantly rest his left hand in his pocket, taking some pressure off his arm. "You don't look fine. Ducky, what do you think?"

"I think you are a very perceptive woman. Timothy, would you permit me to take a look? It was your left shoulder that took the brunt of your fall yesterday I understand."

"Did Gibbs call?"

"No, but he did mention yesterday's exploits earlier. Why don't you sit here for me, and if you could open your shirt?"

Tim sat down and tried to hide the discomfort he was feeling, not only from the pain, but also from having Ducky and Abby staring at him. He fumbled with the buttons and could see Abby itching to help, he gave a sigh of relief when he got the last button unfastened. Abby did help with his jacket and he was relieved to have the assistance, his shoulder had stiffened during the day and he wasn't sure he'd have managed such a simple task alone. With a quick smile at Abby he pulled his shirt sleeve down a little.

"Good Lord Timothy! I had no idea." Ducky leaned closer and gently probed the dark red stain on Tim's shoulder and upper arm, Tim hissed as the pain intensified. Abby took a step nearer, staring at his chest, her eyes wide. It was her silence, even more than Ducky's exclamation that had Tim glancing down, he was stunned to see a dark purple bruise covering much of his left side.

"Oh boy…didn't notice that before."

"Then we'll take a look at it now: Abigail, would you call Jimmy and ask him to bring my medical bag, right away please."


	4. Chapter 4

7

**Chapter Four**

"His soup's getting cold; do you think I should call him?"

"He'll be here when he's done Tony; if they found out what happened to Mitchell he'll want all the details."

Tony finished off his soup and nodded. "Oh yeah, no stone unturned…." He heard the elevator ping and looked up expecting to see Tim returning to the bullpen. "Hey Abs." She walked toward them without a word. "Hey Abs, you okay?"

"Me? Sure…Tim…Ducky says he has to go to the hospital. Just a precaution he said, nothing to worry about, but I can't not worry, it's Tim…"

Gibbs got up and led her to his chair. "Abs, why don't you sit down and tell us what Ducky said."

"He…Gibbs have you seen the bruises? I never saw anything like it, and Ducky, I could see he was worried, and then Tim's blood pressure was too low and Ducky said he had to have tests at the hospital." She looked up at Gibbs, relying on him as ever to make her feel better. "He's going to be okay isn't he, this is all because he didn't get any sleep last night, right?"

Gibbs kissed her cheek and smiled. "Most likely Abs, you know Ducky, he likes to be sure, putting everyone's mind at rest, okay?"

Tony was struggling to get his head round this new and disturbing development. "His chest; you said there was bruising on his chest?"

"It's…" Abby held her hands about six inches apart. "It's this wide and goes almost the length of his ribcage."

"I don't get it." Tony shook his head. "I was there, and I swear he didn't fall that hard, he was wearing a vest too. I mean, his shoulder I can understand, Saragonis is a big guy and Tim took him down…the other, makes no sense."

"Saragonis didn't kick out at him?" Gibbs hadn't seen the takedown and he wanted as many details as Tony could offer.

"No Boss, Tim had him on the ground and we got him cuffed before he could do any damage." Tony lapsed into silence, playing the scene over in his mind, had there been a kick, a blow? No, he was certain there was nothing; so why was Tim in the hospital?

"Abs, do you want to stay here 'til Ducky calls?"

"Oh Gibbs, I forgot, how could I…?" She jumped up from his chair. "No, I can't stay, I have work to do and Tim, he asked Ducky…there was another homeless man. I should have said right away, he died suddenly at United Medical Center Wednesday morning; he was army, but Ducky wants to do the autopsy, he doesn't believe in coincidences either."

"Do you have a name Abs?" It was a relief to Gibbs that she had work to do, keeping occupied would stop her fretting over McGee. Finding more information about this other death would also give his team a new purpose, and judging by the anxious glances Tony was giving Tim's empty desk, work was a very good thing.

"Tim wrote it down, the doctor's name too." She unfolded a piece of paper she'd been clutching in her hand, Gibbs took it from her with a smile.

"We'll get on it right now, how about you?"

"I have Sergeant Mitchell's personal effects to examine, and there are more tests running on his blood. There's something wrong and I have to find it, Tim will want to know when he gets back." She hurried away with more of a bounce that she had when she entered the bullpen.

Gibbs handed Tony the paper. "Call the hospital, I'll go see the Director, Whately was army, don't want any jurisdictional problems messing up the investigation. Bishop, start looking into recent deaths in the homeless community, see if there's a pattern." He jogged up the stairs to see Vance, content in the knowledge that his team was doing what they did best even if they were a man light. His hand went to his pocket, he should call Ducky. No, they would barely have made it to Bethesda, he'd be patient, do what the others were doing and mask his concern by immersing himself in the work.

NCIS NCIS

"Can't I go back to work while we wait for the results? I won't leave my desk I promise." Tim felt like he'd been poked and prodded for hours, yet when he checked the time he found they'd only been at the hospital ninety minutes.

"Out of the question Timothy, we will have to wait some time for most of the results, but it is plain to see you are in pain, and if nothing else we need to ascertain what medication we can give you to make you more comfortable,"

"I'm fi-"

"No you are not fine. There has to be a reason why your blood pressure has dropped so dramatically, and tell me honestly, is the pain better or worse since we got here?" Ducky was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he wanted Tim to face facts.

Tim sighed deeply, grimacing as such a small action caused a fresh pain to grip his chest. "Okay…it's worse, I just don't understand why. I've take harder knocks and nothing like this has happened."

"And that dear boy is why we are here. Now, I am going in search of a drinkable cup of tea; would you like anything?"

"Water maybe, if I'm allowed."

"I'm sure there won't be a problem, but I'll check with Doctor Henley to be certain, and I'll see if we're any closer to getting some results too."

"Thanks Ducky."

As soon as Ducky was gone Tim took out his phone and selected a much-used number, he smiled when it was answered on the first ring. "Tim! How are you doing?"

"I'm going crazy with boredom here Tony. Do you have anything on Mitchell or Whately?"

"Hey, we're a man light and he's our go-to search guru, us mere mortals take a little longer, but we'll get there."

"I know Tony, just impatient I guess, nothing to do here but think…if their deaths are connected…"

"We could have something big on our hands. Bishop's looking into all deaths of the homeless in DC, if there's a pattern she'll find it. The hospital's willing to hand over Whately's body as soon as we get the DC Coroner's okay; Jimmy's ready to start the autopsy as soon as we get the release."

"Ducky should be there too, not stuck here with me."

"Doubt he'd want to leave you alone, and Jimmy's good at his job, he'll do fine."

"I know he will, ignore me Tony, I'm just cranky." Tim was pleased they were making progress, but frustrated that he wasn't a part of it, he wanted so much to do something to help the men he'd met on the street. "With luck I'll be out of here soon and I can get back to work."

"Take a few hours Tim, and when you're done go home, you need to rest."

"What do you think I'm doing? Not exactly strenuous work sitting here."

Tony could hear the edge of tension in Tim's voice. "Doesn't sound like you're resting much either."

A quiet laugh sounded in Tony's hear, and he was glad to hear it, until he heard the hiss of pain. "You okay?"

"Oh yeah, just discovered what they mean when they say, it only hurts when I laugh."

"I should be getting back."

"You must have a lot to do, I hear you're a man light."

It was Tony's turn to laugh. "For that you're buying lunch tomorrow."

"Not me, you still owe me for the extra dose of cat pee; you should buy me lunch for a month at least."

"We'll discuss it later, I really do have to…"

"Wait Tony! I just remembered, there was another guy, he was taken to hospital the day before Goliath…I don't know his real name, only heard him called Deuce. Could you try to find out about him? He was most likely taken to UMC too."

"No problem, you hang in there buddy, and no trying to escape before your results are in."

"Okay, just wish they'd hurry."

Tony ended the call and looked up to see Ellie watching him. "How is he Tony?"

"Climbing the walls; he's got another name for us, only a street name, but we've found people with less. You come across a guy named Deuce?"

"Deuce…not so far." She glanced over to Tim's desk and shook her head. "I can't believe I badgered him to eat when he's sick; I'm trying to be an investigator and I can't even see what's right in front of me."

"Don't blame yourself, he's good at keeping things quiet. Remind me to tell you about his alter ego one of these days. Right now, we have work to do."

NCIS NCIS

Tim returned the phone to his jacket pocket and settled back to wait; how much longer would it be? Stupid question, he knew some of the results wouldn't be in for hours, all he could hope was that the preliminary results would indicate there was nothing wrong beyond some bad bruising, and he could get out of here. A few more minutes dragged by and he got up and paced around the waiting room, he was so bored…and he needed to use the men's room; if he was going to have to wait much longer he might as well make himself as comfortable as he could.

It was as he was washing his hands that he noticed it, a drop of blood on his wrist, he washed it off, but before he could dry his hands the blood was there again, where was it coming from? There was a sharp knock on the door.

"Timothy, are you in there?"

He hurried to the door. "Hey Ducky, just needed to use the head. Oh, hi Doctor Henley." Tim tried to read the doctor's expression, but it was a bit like trying to figure out what Gibbs was thinking. Ducky, on the other hand, he could read like a book. "You found something."


	5. Chapter 5

9

**Chapter Five**

Things were moving, but way too slow for Gibbs' liking; it was a feeling with which he was all too familiar. At the start of every case, when it was more about the data collection, forensic science and autopsy examination than about interviewing suspects or making arrests, he always felt like things weren't going anywhere. He knew this stage was vital, the foundation of any successful case was laid in these early hours, didn't mean he liked it any better, and his mood wasn't improved by his concerns regarding Tim. It had been over four hours since Abby came into the bullpen and every time the phone rang he hoped there was news, surely if it was a precautionary visit they'd have heard something by now.

"You got anything Bishop? Hey!"

Her head jerked up and she pulled out her earphones, at a loss as to what had been asked, she was about to break one of Gibbs' rules and apologise when Tony came to her rescue.

"Boss wants to know what you have."

"Thanks Tony." She hit a few keys on her laptop and picked up the remote. "It's too early for any of this to be definitive but…" Ellie clicked and a map of DC appeared on the plasma. "See here, and here, the last six weeks there's been an increase in mortality rates compared with the six weeks prior to that."

"Same cause of death?"

"That I don't know Gibbs. I have calls in for copies of death certificates, but they won't be here until tomorrow."

"Good start Bishop; Tony?"

"Whately served two tours in Afghanistan, spotless record, got a medical discharge then went off the grid. No family I've been able to trace; his old platoon commander was listed as his emergency contact, but he was killed in a traffic accident last year. I'm going to do some interviews tomorrow, try and get some of the homeless to talk to me, see if I can get a description of Deuce; should be interesting."

"I'll come with you, someone out there must know what Deuce looked like." Gibbs was feeling energised already, at last there was something practical to be done. "That it?"

"Pretty much, Jimmy's done with the autopsy, Whately has a small cut on his hand, not an obvious cause of death…Abby's got more blood samples running, should keep her busy."

They'd all been recipients of numerous anxious phone calls from Abby during the afternoon. As if on cue Gibbs' phone rang, he checked caller ID and answered immediately. "Hey Duck, thought you'd forgotten us."

"Jethro, would you all be so good as to join us in the lab?"

"On our way."

Gibbs didn't have to invite the others to go with him, they were already heading toward the elevator. The ride down seemed to take longer than usual, but in reality less than a minute passed before they were in Abby's lab, they were there, and so were Abby, Ducky and Jimmy, but no Tim.

Gibbs could feel the tension in the air, something was wrong. "Duck, I thought…"

"Oh, my apologies, I'm at sixes and sevens as Mother used to say. I should have told you right away, Timothy is still at the hospital they want to keep him in overnight, perhaps longer. I came back to get blood samples from Abby so that the hospital can run further tests."

"Whoa, back up there Ducky, Tim…what's wrong?" It wasn't that Tony didn't care what had happened to the homeless men, he did; but they were strangers to him, and Tim was his best friend.

"He, there has been a rather troubling development." Ducky was standing close to Abby, and for the first time Gibbs noticed she was holding on tight to the ME's hand. "Timothy's blood tests show a deficiency in his platelet count, his doctor wants to give him a transfusion and keep him under observation for at least twenty-four hours."

Gibbs could see it in Jimmy and Abby's expressions, they were the ones who knew the science and they were worried…"Duck, non-medical people here, in English."

"Platelets are the blood cells which allow the blood to clot if there is any injury. As you know, Timothy has some severe bruising and Dr Henley is concerned that there could be some internal bleeding."

"From a bruise? But I saw it, seriously he didn't fall that hard, I don't understand."

"Nor do we Tony, that's why they want to run more tests."

"Duck, is this…what's happening to Tim, is it connected to Mitchell and Whately's deaths?"

"I wish I had a definitive answer Jethro, all I can say is that at this stage we have no reason to think there is a link, but we want to be sure, which is why I'm here. Abby will continue with her tests, and with the samples I take to Bethesda we'll have another lab working to find out what is causing the anomalies in the blood."

Abby let go of Ducky, she was worried, very worried; one of the people she cared for most in the world was in the hospital, and she wanted to go to him, to show him that she cared. She knew there was a much better way to show how much he meant to her, she would stay here and work, she'd find something and when she did Tim would be fine, he had to be. "I should get back to work, Jimmy has ore blood and tissue samples for me."

"Let me help you with that Abby." Jimmy moved purposefully to the counter, Ducky patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you Jimmy. I should be getting back, oh; I almost forgot. Timothy asked if I could take his go-bag." Ducky smiled. "I believe he wants to be ready for a quick getaway from the hospital as soon as they release him."

Desperate to do something useful Ellie almost ran to the door. "I'll go get it."

"No need, I can collect it in my way out." Ducky was talking to an empty space. "My, she can move quickly, and so must I." He fastened the sample box, signed the paperwork and planted a quick kiss on Abby's cheek. "He's in safe hands Abigail, I promise."

"I know, just wish I could see him."

"No visitors tonight, he really is very tired and he'll be under close observation all night, we'd be in the way. I'll be going home once I've handed these over, and I suggest it would do you all good to be calling it a day soon."

"But I have to…there might be something here to help Tim."

"Indeed, or there might not, we don't know whether there is any connection, and nothing will be gained by you working yourself to exhaustion. Jimmy, I am relying on you; once the samples are running I want you to be sure you both go home."

"Of course Dr Mallard; come on Abby, let's get started."

Tony's shoulders had slumped at the words 'no visitors', he wanted, needed to see Tim. "Ducky, can't we just visit with him for a few minutes, if he's sleeping I promise not to disturb him."

"I know you're concerned Tony, we all are, but the best thing for him tonight is to get as much rest as he can. If he responds well to treatment he could be released tomorrow afternoon and you'll be able to see him then."

He didn't like it, but Tony knew when he was beaten. "Okay, guess we'll have to wait. Tell him when he gets out I'll buy him lunch as often as he wants."

Ellie hurried back into the lab. "I got his bag, can we take it to him?"

Gibbs took the bag. "Not right now, we'll see him tomorrow. Duck, I'll walk you to your car."

Ducky knew the question was coming, the only surprise was that his old friend waited until they were in the parking lot to ask. "What aren't you telling us?"

He carefully placed the samples in the trunk and tried not to look Jethro in the eye. "You know as much as I do; now I really must be on my way."

"How bad Duck?"

With a huge sigh Ducky finally looked right at Gibbs. "All being well, Timothy's condition will improve overnight."

"And if it doesn't? Tell me what's wrong with him."

"We don't know!" Ducky closed his eyes and took a moment to compose himself. "Forgive me, it's been a long day. Jethro, all the tests…they're being done for a reason. I promise you, when I know what is wrong you'll be the first person I call."

"The samples you've taken they could prove a connection."

"Or disprove one, I want to be sure, and comparing the samples is the only way." He smiled as he opened the car door. "In all likelihood I'm being an old fusspot and Timothy's illness is completely unrelated to the other cases"

Gibbs knew he wasn't getting the whole story, he'd known Ducky too long not to know when he was holding something back. He wouldn't push, not tonight, he'd try to be patient and wait until morning. "Hey, don't forget this." He handed Tim's go-bag to Ducky who reached over and put it on the passenger seat. "Take your own advice Duck, no staying late at the hospital. Tell Tim to rest up and get well."

"I will; goodnight Jethro."

Ducky drove out of the parking lot and tried to give his full attention to the road, it wasn't easy, his head was still spinning after what had happened earlier.

When he'd seen Tim coming out of the men's room Ducky had been taken aback by his pallor, then his eyes had been drawn to the blood on his wrist. "Timothy, did you cut yourself?"

"No…not sure where it's from."

"Let's get a better look." Dr Henley led Tim back to one of the chairs and helped him take off his jacket. "That's a mess, we need the shirt off too." The blood had stained Tim's shirt from elbow to wrist, and Ducky's internal alarm was ringing loud and long. He saw the first signs of panic reaching Tim's eyes and sat beside him.

"Don't worry, this ties in with what we found, your platelet count is low, and one of the side effects as I'm sure you know, is that the blood's ability to clot is impaired, and small wounds can bleed much more than normal."

"Is this, is it from the needle mark?" Tim was staring at the small dressing covering the tiny hole where the phlebotomist had taken blood, now stained dark red, it seemed like it was way too small for the job. Dr Henley seemed to agree.

"Dr Mallard, would you apply some pressure here for me, I'll get a new dressing."

Ducky sat beside Tim, two fingers pressing firmly on the stained dressing. "This shouldn't be happening…Ducky, the platelet count…leukaemia?"

The last word had been uttered in a pained whisper. "It's highly unlikely, there are a number of reasons for low platelet count. Try to stay calm if you can, I know you've had several shocks today…" Given his background Ducky should have known Tim would have a better idea than most laymen about medical symptoms, he was surprised to hear a quiet laugh.

"It's a pity the people you usually work with are dead, you have a great bedside manner."

"Perhaps you'll think differently when I tell you there's another test."

Tim leaned back in the chair and sighed. "Bone marrow aspiration…this day just gets better."

"There's another thing, Dr Henley wants you to stay in the hospital, at least overnight, perhaps longer."

"I can't! Shorty, and Goliath, I have to help find out what happened to them."

"And you will, when you are fully recovered, for now you must do as your doctors tell you. Timothy…look at me and tell me you're well enough to work."

"You know I can't…but there's so much to do."

"Then let your teammates do it, they're excellent investigators and they'll be only too willing to help in any way they can."

Dr Henley took Ducky's place and removed the stained Band Aid, immediately a bruise appeared in the exact shape of the dressing. "Okay, this time we'll use a bandage, less likely to cause any more bruising."

Ducky laid his land very gently on Tim's uninjured shoulder. "I should be getting back to the Navy Yard, there are some more samples we want to run here for comparison. I'll call in to see you before your turn in for the night. Do you want me to bring anything?"

"Just…my go-bag, it has everything I need for when I get out of here. Ducky…the bone marrow test, can we keep it between us, I don't want the others to know, especially Abby, she…you know what she's like. Best she knows nothing until we know for sure it's...whatever it is."

"If you're sure?" Tim nodded briefly. "Certain."

"In which case, my lips are sealed."

It had been tough, but Ducky had been as good as his word, now all he prayed for as he pulled into the parking lot at Bethesda was that the test results would be negative and Tim would make a full recovery, very soon.

_Author's Note: I've reached a point in this story (I'm a chapter or so ahead in draft form) when I realise I'm simply churning out stuff I've written time and time again. My writing has become flat and uninteresting and I can't see a way of making it any better. I apologise to everyone who has taken the time to read this turgid mess so far, and most particularly to those who've been kind enough to offer a comment. I will complete the story simply because I've never left one unfinished, but I quite understand that you won't want to carry on reading._

_This is in NO way an indirect plea for more reviews, you are quite rightly exercising your reader's prerogative to only read and review stories which engage your interest. More chapters will follow, I'm just not sure when…_


	6. Chapter 6

9

_Author's note: The response to the previous chapter (and my pitiful whining) has left me shocked and humbled. I did mean it when I said I wasn't trawling for reviews so I was amazed to see so many of you take the time to offer words of support, both for me personally, and for the story. Having said that, the story continues to frustrate me, I have the skeleton of the plot written down and I know exactly where it's going, getting there is the problem!_

_As ever I've thanked personally all those who have a PM facility. To others…_

_Guest: I think the characters are all great to work with, partly because they're all capable of doing stupid things as well as doing some pretty amazing things, lots of scope for getting them in all sorts of situations, hazardous and humorous!_

_Gail: Writers are rarely satisfied, always our own worst critics, by the way, you may change your mind about the science later_

_Earthdragon: As I said to someone else, I think the turgid mess is in my mind, but as long as it's there I'm at a writing standstill. I promise to try and make waiting for the conclusion worthwhile._

_I told you all there was a chapter already done and here it is. From here on in it's back to pulling hen's teeth and attempting to put flesh on the bones of the plot. Hopefully there'll be something to post in a couple of weeks. My thanks again for your support and understanding_

**Chapter Six**

_Next Morning 07.00_

Ducky hurried through the sliding doors, he had a full day ahead of him now that he'd persuaded the DC Coroner to allow him to carry out the autopsy on Deuce. In truth Ducky hadn't even needed to offer the bottle of single malt Martin Bicknell had coveted on his last visit, he'd been more than willing to let NCIS take the body. "Donald I'm snowed under here, the way things are I won't get to him for a week at least, if it has some bearing on your case, take him, just keep me informed if there's a problem I should know about." Ducky had assured him he'd be kept in the loop, and Martin had promised the body would be with him by eight. As soon as he'd hung up his hat and coat he would head up to the bullpen and give everyone the latest news.

"Hey Duck."

"Good morning Jethro…everyone." He should have known they wouldn't be able to wait; Abby was almost quivering with the need to ask. "Let me just…ah, thank you Jimmy." His assistant took his hat and coat and hung them on the stand.

"Very well, first things first. Timothy is feeling a little better this morning." Four pairs of shoulders visibly relaxed, one remained at parade-ground attention.

"They know what the problem is Duck?"

"Right to the heart of the matter as ever Jethro. No, as yet they don't fully understand what is happening. His platelet count is rather low; there could be a number of causes for that, to date test results have been a matter of elimination rather than offering a solution."

"Last night, you were holding something back, can you tell us?"

Ducky nodded. "I can now. Yesterday, Timothy didn't want you to be worried so he made me promise not to say anything."

"About what?" Tony's nerves were already stretched almost to breaking point and this wasn't helping. Jimmy put a hand on his outstretched arm. "I think…Dr Mallard will correct me if I'm wrong, I think they had to eliminate leukaemia…Tim's platelet count, it could be caused by…"

"Cancer…oh my, sorry, did I say that out loud?" Ellie blushed to the roots of her hair. "I…"

"Fear not Eleanor, it isn't leukaemia, unfortunately, we don't seem to be any nearer finding out what is causing the problem."

"So what's next Duck?" Gibbs was trying to hide his concern by sticking to the facts, he was always happiest dealing with the real, not the unknown; he could see the rest of his team, they were scared, so it was his job to stay calm.

"More tests, which as I'm sure you can imagine has not exactly thrilled our young man. He's due to have a scan this morning to check for an enlarged spleen, or any internal injury that could have caused his blood count to fluctuate to this degree."

Abby's lip was trembling, ever so slightly. "He's not coming out today is he?"

"I think not Abigail, but you may see him after work if you wish, I'm sure he'd be delighted to have visitors."

"Yes! Oh…I have to get back to work, he'll want to know all about Sergeant Mitchell, Corporal Whately too. Thank you Ducky, I'm so glad you're looking out for him." She planted a noisy kiss on his cheek and went running for the elevator.

"I rather think copious amounts of CafPow will be consumed today." Ducky turned to Gibbs. "We will be having a new guest soon, Dr Bicknell has agreed that we perform the autopsy on Deuce. Jimmy and I will need to prepare."

"Then we'll get out of your hair. I'm heading out with Tony, we need to see if any of the homeless will talk to us; if you hear anything from Bethesda…"

"I'll call right away, he's in the care of the very best people Jethro, whatever is wrong, we're going to find the cause, and get him well again."

_Three Hours Later_

"I can't believe they've opened up that way Boss. Last time, when I was here with Bishop, they wouldn't give us the time of day."

"They're scared Tony, too many of the people they live with, the people they trust, they're gone and no one wants to be next."

They'd arrived at 07.35 just as an ambulance was pulling away, sirens howling; another person taken ill, a woman this time, and an already tense community became almost frantic. Everyone Gibbs and Tony spoke to throughout the morning was more than willing to answer any question asked of them, and had looked carefully at the pictures they'd taken along from Sergeant Roe's portfolio. They had all confirmed there was no picture of Deuce, but had offered to help put together a description. Now they were making the short journey back to the Navy Yard with a very good description of Deuce, along with what was left of his personal possessions.

The man holding some of Deuce's clothes had been nervous. "We didn't steal from him, it's kind of…if someone dies, their stuff is shared out…always seems wrong to waste good clothes and bedding…" He lapsed into silence, took out a small package from his shopping cart and handed it to Gibbs. "There are pictures, none of Deuce, but other people, maybe his family. I didn't want to throw them out, seemed like they meant a lot to him. I'm not in trouble am I?"

"No Vinny, we're going to have to take everything for testing, but I'll see you get replacement clothes soon."

"You don't have to do that, I have enough; you just find out what's happening here, it's…we need help Agent Gibbs."

"We're going to do everything we can, that's a promise."

NCIS NCIS

"Description's out Boss, if Deuce is in the system we should get a name soon."

A brief nod was all he got from Gibbs who was intent on reading through his notes from the morning. "Tony, did anyone mention a Jonesy to you?"

"Don't think so…no wait, there was a woman said someone new had been around off and on for a couple of weeks, hasn't seen him since…"

"Since Sergeant Mitchell died."

"You think maybe he's dead too, or sick somewhere."

"I don't know Tony. Damn it! There's too much we don't know." He glared at his empty coffee cup. "I need cof…no, I should go talk to McGee, he may have seen this Jonesy character, heck, if he has any information for us it will be more than we have right now."

Tony was out of his seat, ready and willing to tag along with Gibbs. "Not you Tony, you can visit later. I want you to chase up Mitchell's medical records and see if there's anything we can use in the pictures Vinny gave us. They're counting on us Tony."

NCIS NCIS

Gibbs exited the elevator and strode to the nurses' station, he took out his badge and was rewarded with a warm smile by the petite nurse at the desk. "Ah yes, Special Agent Gibbs, we're expecting you. Follow me, Tim's just along here, he'll be glad to have some company; he's a little…anxious to be out of here."

"I can imagine."

"Here you go, Dr Henley says you can have as much time as you need." Gibbs thanked her with a smile, and gave silent thanks to Ducky for easing the way, he'd called Dr Henley earlier and after assuring the doctor Gibbs' visit was part of an ongoing investigation, Ducky got permission for him to see Tim. He pushed open the door and there he was. Tim was sitting in the armchair beside the bed, his eyes were closed, but Gibbs guessed he wasn't sleeping. As the door closed behind him Tim glanced up and his eyes opened wider when he saw Gibbs.

"Boss! What…do you have news, Sergeant Mitchell, was he killed?"

"Slow down Tim, nothing concrete so far, Abby's still working, but there's enough for the Director to let us look further." He picked up a plastic chair from the corner and set it in front of Tim. "How are you doing? Wasn't expecting to see this." He pointed to the IV line in Tim's arm.

"Platelet count wasn't getting any better, so they're giving me some replacement blood factor." Tim smiled briefly. "Hope it works so I can get out of here and help with the case."

"There is a way you can help but only if you're up to it."

"Anything Boss, I'm going out of my mind here."

"Okay; but if you get tired we stop, I don't want Ducky after my hide." Gibbs took out his notebook and flicked through the pages giving himself a minute to get a good look at Tim. Ducky had assured him Tim would be well enough to answer questions, but sitting with him, seeing close to how beat up he was…He'd expected to see the dark shadows under his eyes, even the pallor, what he hadn't expected was the livid bruise at the top of his left arm, the bandage on his right, the pinched look that told him Tim was in pain. Tim saw him watching and looked down at his arm.

"These hospital gowns don't leave much to the imagination, do they?"

"This is no joke Tim; are you sure about this? I could come back later."

"This is as good as I get right now Boss. They'll likely be here for more tests soon, so if you have questions…"

Gibbs nodded, it was after all what he came here for, although it hadn't hurt that having questions also gave him an opportunity to see Tim for himself. "I do. When you were undercover, did you meet up with a guy, Jonesy?"

"Yeah, he put me together with Shorty…he's not…?"

"We don't know, no one's seen him since Mitchell died. We couldn't get much of a description from the people we saw this morning, seemed like he pretty much blended into the background."

"That's weird, it seemed like he was a regular down there, he knew pretty much everyone. Guess he was ordinary, medium height, mid-brown hair, beard…wait. Being in here is frying my brain; I took a picture with my phone, not sure how good it will be, it was dark."

"Show me."

Tim glanced toward the bed. "I…it's over there, I'm kinda tied up, could you?"

Gibbs nodded and got Tim's phone from the table beside the bed. "You want a drink while I'm here?"

"No thanks, I'm good." He took the phone and scrolled through the pictures he'd taken, there weren't many, it had been tricky trying to get a picture on a state of the art phone when he was posing as a homeless man. "Here it is, not great, but it's full face, should I email it to Abby?"

"You'd wait a long time if you expect me to do it. Hey, do you think you may have a picture of Deuce?"

"How about I send them all to Abby, that way you can check."

"That's good work Tim."

"Happy to help, and I really mean that."

"I know it's tough for you being here. Tim…if, and we don't know for certain there's a connection, but if what you have has anything to do with the others, we have to find the link. When you spent the night out there, is there anything you did with Mitchell and Whately?"

Tim tried to think, it seemed so long ago, yet it was just five days since he'd had his brief experience of life on the streets. "Don't think so…Goliath, sorry Whately, he sent the night in the shelter. I didn't see him 'til morning, talked with him, then went back to NCIS."

"What about Mitchell? You were with him all night."

"Yeah…hard to believe he's dead, he seemed like a good guy, even offered me…oh…"

"Tim; you remember something?"

"There was a food truck, he gave me a plate of food before he took any for himself, we ate…do you think? No, can't be, if there was something in the food I'd have been sick before…"

"Maybe, we'll check it out."

Tim closed his eyes in an effort to concentrate, for a few seconds Gibbs wasn't sure whether he was sleeping. Then his eyes were open again and for a moment he looked his normal, eager self. "Got it! I couldn't remember…there was a logo on the truck, eats for streets, all one word, and the four was a number. That's it, Eats4Streets, the servers had it on their t-shirts too."

"I'll get Bishop tracking them down, we'll find Jonesy too."

Tim slumped back in his chair. "That's what I should be doing, I should be out there helping."

"You're helping us by doing what the doctors say. We'll find whoever did this to you Tim."

"I'm okay, I have all this." He swept his arm round to indicate his surroundings. "The people on the streets, what did they have? They're the ones who deserve answers."

"And we're going to get them. You take all the time you need, you have only one job right now; get well."

"On it Boss."


	7. Chapter 7

9

_Author's Note: You must be getting sick of these, but I promise this is short and I hope sweet! Thank you to everyone who commented or contacted me personally, I appreciate every word! From here on in I promise no more whining, story updates only, and without further ado…_

**Chapter Seven**

The first thing Gibbs did when he got back to NCIS was hand over all the new information to Tony. "Find out everything we can about Eats4Streets, get traffic camera footage. Bishop, I want to know exactly how many deaths we're talking about; I want answers now!"

The second thing he did was head down to Autopsy. "Duck, he looks real sick, what's wrong with him?"

"I'm afraid we still have more questions than answers, what we do know is that Timothy is suffering from some kind of blood disorder. Given the results we are getting on our other tests it seems incredibly unlikely it's not linked to…Let me show you, Abby has the slides on her computer."

So Gibbs ended up in Abby's lab, trying to soothe her fears and ignore the knot starting to twist in his gut. He didn't pretend to understand everything Ducky was saying, not even when Abby or Jimmy tried to 'explain' what the slides showed. To him it was blobs and squiggles, but to them it was life and death, and they pinpointed it for him. Sergeant Mitchell's thrombosis was caused by a collection of blood clots, clots that should never have developed in the quantities they had. The giant of a man who had been Corporal Whately was brought down by a lack of antibodies in his blood, the microscopic cells that should have fought off the infection to which his body succumbed way too quickly. "You see Jethro, it's not that the antibodies were overwhelmed by a massive infection as can happen in a case of sepsis; Corporal Whately's body didn't produce any antibodies, he never stood a chance, if he hadn't cut his finger he would have caught a cold, or a stomach bug and his body wouldn't have been able to deal with it."

Gibbs stared at the screen, he didn't have a clue what was wrong. "Agent Gibbs, if you look here." Another picture appeared on the neighbouring monitor as Jimmy tapped on the keyboard. "This is what healthy blood cells look like, if you compare it with Corporal Whately's or the Sergeant's…"

Medical expert or not, Gibbs could see the slides had little in common.

"Do you see Gibbs?" Abby must have been reading his mind. "They both had blood disorders, but their symptoms developed too fast…somehow, and we still don't know how, someone changed the way their blood reacted, and it killed them…now Timmy…his platelet count, it could have been done the same way as…if he…"

"Now Abigail, we've talked about this. Timothy has advantages our poor departed souls did not. They were generally in poor physical condition, living in a frankly unhealthy environment with little or no care; Tim is young, has the best of care, and he has us. We will find out the cause and ensure he gets the treatment he requires for a full recovery." He reached for her hand. "You're helping already my dear, shall we take a short break for lunch and continue our search later?"

"Stop…I can't stop."

"You can and you will Abs, no one benefits is we miss something because we're too tired to see straight. Take a break you too Duck, that means Jimmy too."

"We're awaiting preliminary results on the blood from Deuce's autopsy and will take the opportunity to go outside for lunch."

"Okay, and call me…"

"The minute we get anything."

NCIS NCIS

Satisfied that they'd all take a proper break, Gibbs made his way back to the squad room, as he exited the elevator he bumped headlong into Director Vance.

"Gibbs, I was on my way to see you, Agent DiNozzo tells me the doctors still don't know what's wrong with Agent McGee, how's he doing?"

"He's frustrated, wants to be here helping."

"Of course he does, does anyone on your MCRT know how to relax?" Vance's brief smile disappeared. "DiNozzo looks worried, how serious is it?"

"I'm not sure…he looks exhausted…they have to do more tests, it's tough for him."

"For you too, I'm guessing Dr Mallard already told you, but McGee's in the best place."

"More than once, I know he's right but it's tough seeing him that way." Gibbs scraped his hand through his hair. "Leon, the case."

"You sure we have one?"

"As sure as I've ever been. Bad things are happening on the streets, these people are dying because of what someone has done to them. We don't know exactly how or why."

"Lots of questions Gibbs, when can I expect some answers?"

"We have new leads; Leon…"

"You need help?"

"Oh yeah, if we don't find the bastards behind this, more people could die."

"Use whatever and whoever you need Gibbs, Mayuira's team is going over cold cases, I'll have them transfer to your case."

"You're not going to fight me over manpower and resources?"

"Agent McGee is NCIS Gibbs, and if he's sick because he was doing his job, getting justice for vulnerable people…You do whatever you have to, I want the bastards who put one of my agents in the hospital!"

NCIS NCIS

"Boss, we have a name for Deuce. Mark Eltham; reported missing eighteen months ago. His sister's flying in from Duluth to identify the body, should be here first thing tomorrow."

"Good; do we have Mitchell's medical records?"

"They're with Ducky now, Whately's too."

Gibbs nodded in satisfaction. At last things were starting to move a little faster. "Bishop, Eats4Streets?"

"I haven't made much progress." She saw the look she'd already come to understand. "I will! Only it's not easy."

"You want easy, you should have stayed at the NSA. People have died, more could be dying right now. "Gibbs pushed the image of Tim out of his mind, he had to, or he'd never maintain his focus. "If this truck is delivering…heck, I don't know what, but if it's involved; I want the truck, and I want whoever's behind it."

"I'll get on it, but the deaths…you wanted a breakdown of the causes…"

"Hand that over to Mayuira's team. Dorneget can handle it, take him through your process then concentrate on the truck. Anything on its current location?"

"Looks like they're not on the streets today Boss." Tony clicked the remote and an image appeared on the plasma. "We got this from traffic camera footage the night Tim…when he went undercover. We have hours of recordings "

"The Director's authorised extra help, get the tapes to Mayuira, and tell her if she needs more help to get it. I want you liaising with Metro PD, see if you can talk with the homeless in the other areas where Bishop identified the recent deaths."

Tony looked at the clock, it was already 15.20. "Hey DiNozzo! You have somewhere you need to be?"

"Not right now, but…Tim, I was hoping to get to see him."

Gibbs momentary irritation evaporated. "Visiting's 19.00, if you're not done by 18.00 I'll take over; you can get back here so you can take Abby with you."

"I'm on it Boss!" He picked up the phone, the quicker he called Metro the quicker he could get started, and be finished in time to get to the hospital.

NCIS NCIS

Abby's arm was linked through his as they approached the hospital entrance and Tony wasn't surprised when she gripped tight. "Remember what Ducky said Abs, the haematology department is here."

"I know, but…it's kinda scary."

Tony didn't argue, how could he? Walking into a department bearing the name John P. Murtha Cancer Center would have been terrifying without the heads-up Ducky gave them earlier. He gave Abby's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Come on Abs, Tim's expecting us, don't want to keep him waiting."

"Right…you're right, he's been stuck here all day, we should hurry."

Exactly two minutes later they were sitting in the day room with Tim, both trying desperately not to show him how worried they were. With slightly trembling hands Abby took Tim's Kindle from her bag and handed it to him.

"Thanks for this Abs, at least I'll have something to read."

"Anything for you." She sat beside him. "You do know that don't you Tim? If there's anything…"

He took her hand and smiled. "Not right now Abs, if they could just find out what's wrong I could get out of here and get to work."

"Looks like you could use a good night's sleep Tim." Tony pulled up a chair, careful not to disturb the IV. How had this happened so fast? Yesterday morning Tim had been joking with him as they compared bruises, and now…he looked really sick.

"Maybe you could tell the nurses, seems like every time I close my eyes, someone's checking something."

"You want me to tell you what you already know?"

"It's for my own good; I do know Tony. I don't want to sound ungrateful, I'm lucky to be getting the help. Maybe if Sergeant Mitchell and Corporal Whately…any news on the case?"

Tony knew a deflection when he heard one, but if that was how Tim wanted to deal with his current situation, he'd work with it. "We're getting lots of cooperation from the people on the streets, they're frightened, two more people have been taken to hospital since you found Mitchell. Bishop identified three more areas where deaths among the homeless had increased, we went along to talk with them and guess what? The guy you met, Jonesy, he's been seen in every area, but everyone says he seemed to come out of nowhere, then one day he was gone."

"But…he seemed to know about everyone, if he wasn't a regular…was he studying them, looking for the most vulnerable?"

"We're not making assumptions, but you know Gibbs and coincidences, this guy appearing when he did…"

With Abby's help Tony gave Tim a full rundown of what they had so far. It seemed like no time at all when the nurse was asking all visitors to leave.

"I'll walk you to the elevator; it's about time I went back to my room."

"It' okay Timmy, you should rest."

"I could use a walk, it's why they put wheels on this thing." Tim levered himself out of the chair and took a moment to establish a firm balance, then he pulled the IV stand and led his friends into the corridor. "I'm just glad they let me put on my boxers, leastways my behind isn't on display."

"It's a very nice behind." Abby grinned and took his arm as they walked the few paces to the elevator. All too soon as far as she was concerned it was time to say goodnight. "Remember Tim, if there's anything you need. Oh! Your family, and Delilah, have you called?"

"I sent emails…told them we'd caught a tough case and I'd be out of contact for a few days."

Tony was open-mouthed, but only for a second. "You lied to Penny?"

"Not in person, she'd know I was keeping something back. They…Dad's not doing so good right now; they're all out in San Diego. All this, they don't have to know, I'll be home in a day or two and they'll be none the wiser."

"You sure? I mean Sarah's going to be pretty snarky when she finds out you didn't tell her you're sick."

"Sarah's always been Daddy's girl; she's where she needs to be right now, they all are. You're all looking out for me, what more do I need?"

Abby kissed his cheek. "Call one of us if you need anything, you hear?"

"You have enough on your plates finding out what happened to the homeless. Soon as I'm out of here I'll be able to do something useful and help out." Tim could see Nurse Colville glaring at him, so he figured it was time to go back to his room. "It was great to see you."

"We'll call in tomorrow, if you're still here."

"Thanks Tony, drive safe."

Abby gave him another quick kiss. "Sleep well Tim, 'night."

"No kiss from me, and I guess a manly hug won't work with that thing." Tony glanced at the portable IV and shook Tim's hand. "You do as they tell you McImpatient."

Tim's eyebrows went up, that was a stretch even for Tony, guess they were all tired. "I will, goodnight." He waved as they stepped into the elevator, standing forlornly as the doors closed, Tim sighed and trudged back to his room. As he pushed open the door he noticed a new bruise on the back of his right hand; where had that come from? He looked closely, it couldn't be…yet the evidence was there, the bruise had been made by the pressure of Tony's thumb when they'd shaken hands, but he hadn't pressed hard…Tim swallowed the lump that had materialised in his throat, time to face facts, he was in trouble.


	8. Chapter 8

8

**Chapter Eight**

_Next Morning_

"Well Timothy, this isn't what I'd hoped to see this morning."

"Me either…after they gave me the vitamin K, I thought I'd be on my way home by now."

Ducky had called in to see Tim on his way to NCIS, hoping to see a significant improvement in his condition; he hadn't been expecting to see him looking worse, much worse. He was in bed with a second IV line delivering whole blood, his skin was pale with a light sheen of perspiration, and from what he could see the bruises were not only as livid as before, there were more of them.

"You seem to have been in the wars, what happened here?" Ducky pointed to a fresh bruise on Tim's right arm.

"That one…that was stupid. Going to the bathroom last night, felt a little dizzy so I leaned against the doorframe…"

"You fell?"

"No…just rested there and…this. I…what's happening Ducky?"

Tim was understandably anxious and Ducky shared his concerns, but he wasn't going to admit it. "You're proving to be a bit of a puzzle at the moment. We need to get to the root cause of the platelet imbalance, and then we'll get you up and about, you'll see."

"I know you're all working hard, it's…I don't like feeling helpless…I wanted so much to help Shorty and the others."

"You already have. Without you their bodies would still have been in the DC morgue waiting to be autopsied. Don't waste your energy fretting over the case, let us do the heavy lifting, we're quite good at this kind of thing you know." Ducky was pleased he managed to get a smile out of Tim.

"Believe me, I know, you're the best there is."

"Good, then trust us to carry on your good work. I wish I could stay longer but I'm expecting Mark Eltham's sister this morning."

Tim was momentarily puzzled. "Mark…? Oh, got it…Tony told me last night; Deuce, I keep getting the names muddled."

"At least we've been able to give him a name." Ducky took a step closer to the bed, and gently brushed his hand over Tim's forehead, it was warm, but not fever warm. "I'll call in later today, and I'm sure I won't be the only one."

Tim shook his head. "There's no need, you're all working; you should be getting rest, not coming here. I'm pretty tired so I guess I'll be sleeping most of the day."

"I hope you do; take care Timothy."

"Thanks for calling in Ducky."

Before Ducky had reached the door Tim's eyes were closed, the ME whispered, "Sleep well young man."

NCIS NCIS

The atmosphere around the headquarters building became more intense as word got round that their fellow agent was still in the hospital and that his condition was deteriorating. They had a name for the elusive Jonesy, he was Ethan Boyce, a former Navy Seaman given a less than honourable discharge three years previous. So far there had been no hits on the BOLO and Gibbs was pacing the bullpen like a caged lion.

"He has to be somewhere, I want him. And where is the truck? It can't just disappear!" Everyone fully understood Gibbs' frustration, throughout the night two teams had sifted through hours of traffic camera footage. They had plenty of sightings of the truck, but no idea where it went at the end of its delivery route, as soon as it pulled off the highway it went out of reach of the cameras and they lost it. All they knew was it headed south on Interstate 1, after that it could have gone anywhere. They were disheartened but they weren't about to give up, surely the truck would be back on the road soon and when it was, they'd be ready.

Ellie's fingers flew across her keyboard, oblivious to everything around her she was engrossed in the search. She was getting close, she had to be. Her search for the people behind Eats4Streets had been incredibly frustrating, every time she got close another layer appeared, like Russian dolls nesting one inside the other. She was using everything she'd learned in her time at the NSA, and the tips she'd picked up from watching Tim McGee carry out his searches right here in the bullpen.

"Got it!"

Gibbs hurried to her desk. "Show me."

"Eats4Streets, I finally got a lead from company records. Dunster Real Estate is one of the holding companies, and they have a warehouse in Woodbridge, off the Jefferson Davis Highway …could be a coincidence."

"Don't believe in 'em. Tony…"

"I'll get the car."

"Good work Bishop, let's go. Mayuira, we'll need a warrant."

"No problem, I'll call when it's ready."

NCIS NCIS

"Are you sure about this Mrs Porter? We could postpone if you want more time to prepare." Ducky hesitated at the door to Autopsy, he knew from long experience that this could be a daunting place even for those in law enforcement; for relatives of his 'guests' it could be overwhelming.

"Thank you Dr Mallard, but I've been preparing for this moment ever since the day my brother went missing."

"Very well." He ushered her into the room and guided her toward the bank of drawers. "He's in here, now are you certain?"

Monica Porter took a steadying breath and nodded. "I have to know, we've waited so long."

Ducky pulled the drawer open, with great care he lifted the white sheet from Eltham's face and folded it on his chest. He took Monica's arm as she stepped closer, ready to catch her if she faltered; he felt her stiffen and heard a quiet sob.

"That's him. Oh Mark, what happened to you?" She reached out her hand and hesitated. "Can I touch him?"

"Of course my dear." Ducky took a few steps back to give her the illusion of privacy. She stroked her brother's cheek, then leaned in to kiss him.

"I'm so glad we found you Mark…I just wish…if only you'd talked to me." She placed the sheet back over his face and straightened it with the utmost gentleness. "He seemed to have it all…his own business, a beautiful wife; then it all fell apart. Jess, his wife, she got cancer, they tried every treatment there was but…she didn't make it. Paying the medical expenses…took everything he had; the business…he'd neglected it while Jess was sick. All his hard work wasted." She turned to Ducky, her eyes bright. "Why did he leave us Doctor? We'd have helped him get back on his feet."

"Perhaps he was ashamed, felt he'd failed you all somehow."

She started to cry. "He was my brother, he nursed Jess for so long, held her when she died…he did nothing wrong. We worried every night, didn't know whether he was alive or dead. I wish…if only he could have opened up to us, we would have done anything for him."

"Grief can play tricks on the mind my dear, I'm sure deep down he knew you all loved him, but somehow he built up a barrier he couldn't overcome. He found solace on the streets, and he had friends, one of them kept these safe." He handed her the pictures and as she looked through them, the tears dripped from her chin.

"This is…Mom and Dad, me…Mark took it on my Senior Prom; and here, it's Jess, they loved each other so much the air seemed to crackle around them…is that stupid?"

"I think it's beautiful." Ducky took her hand and led her to the door. "We will take the very greatest care of him my dear, and very soon you'll have him home."

"Thanks to you, all of you. If you hadn't investigated we might never have found him, now…we can lay him beside Jess, they should be together. Dr Mallard, I heard people talking upstairs, I know one of your agents is sick, please know he'll be remembered in our prayers."

NCIS NCIS

Abby and Jimmy were co-ordinating with the haematology lab at Bethesda, and their spirits lowered the more they discovered. Each man they'd autopsied had died of a different complaint, but each of their blood tests showed numerous, worrying anomalies. The results had finally come through on Mark Eltham's samples and Jimmy sighed deeply as he read the findings. "His liver was overwhelmed by a massive overdose of iron, it's like the blood's filtering processes just stopped working."

Abby's shoulders slumped. "All of them…the blood's mechanisms have been tampered with, but how…?"

"I've never seen anything like this before, nor has Dr Mallard, and he's been doing this a heck of a lot longer than me. There has to be something they all have in common to cause the imbalances…if only we can get to the source, we can stop it."

"Jimmy…what if…Tim is getting sicker; if we can't…"

"We will. Abby, we're getting more information all the time, one breakthrough and we're there. Tim's going to be okay, we just have to find whatever triggered the reduction in his platelet count." Ducky had told him to try and keep Abby as busy as possible, give her less time to worry about Tim, so Jimmy led her back to the computer screens. "Did we get the email from Bethesda with Tim's latest blood sample? Dr Mallard said they took more this morning, we should start to see some improvement now he's having a transfusion."

She clicked the mouse and opened up her messages while Jimmy put up on the plasma the slides from last night's sample. "Here it is." Abby crossed her fingers as she clicked on the new image, a silent plea going through her mind, please let the platelets be normal, please. She stared at the screen, then again at the message; this must be a mistake, surely this couldn't be Tim's blood. "Jimmy…"

"I see it Abby."

NCIS NCIS

Tony stood in the hollow emptiness of the warehouse, the mood of optimism they'd carried with them on the journey had been destroyed by the total lack of evidence. The overwhelming smell of bleach screaming out the message, someone had been expecting them and had removed every shred of evidence.

"How did they know?" Ellie's whispered question filled the void.

"We've been asking plenty of questions out on the streets. If 'Jonesy' wasn't the only one out there who didn't belong; he'd have reported back to whoever's behind this. Gave them time to clear out." Gibbs headed for the door.

"So it's a dead end."

"No Bishop, it's a lead." Tony took a last look then followed Gibbs. "We get back and dig deeper. They cleaned the place, which means there was something here. What we have to do is find out where they took it, and find it fast."

NCIS NCIS

"There's no mistake Abigail, Dr Henley had the lab check again, this is Timothy's blood." Ducky stood in the lab, flanked by Abby and Jimmy, staring at the screen, each of them trying to hide what they were thinking and failing miserably. They'd checked and double-checked the samples, called Bethesda, had them check again…yet they were still as far away from a solution as they had been four hours ago when Ducky had said farewell to Monica Porter.

"Doctor…I don't understand, yesterday it looked like we were getting to grips with Tim's sickness. The blood transfusion and the vitamin shots, they should be working, but this…" Jimmy looked to his mentor for answers, but none was forthcoming.

"I'm as mystified as you are Jimmy. I couldn't understand why the treatments weren't working, but when I see this, it starts to make a kind of warped sense. What we're seeing, the changes in the blood samples in such a short time…"

"It's like his own blood is attacking him…" Abby finally said out loud what they were all thinking. "Ducky, we have to find what's doing this, maybe it's an enzyme, or a poison we can't trace…we have to get a sample of the food, the answer's there I know it is!"

"Abigail, please my dear, I know it's terribly difficult but we have to stay calm. Timothy is relying on us and we will not let him down. Jethro is out at the warehouse now, he'll call soon to let us know what they found; then we'll get to work, will you be ready?"

"Just watch me!"


	9. Chapter 9

8

**My thanks to everyone who has continued to review this story as guests, and to those who have favourite or followed the story.**

**Chapter Nine**

"Did you sleep last night Tony?"

"Some; I'm good Boss, ready to work."

"You want to try that again?"

Tony sighed, how could he be expected to sleep after seeing Tim last night? "I…I got a couple of hours maybe; I can work, all day, night too if I have to. We've done it before."

It was true and Gibbs knew it, the difference was there hadn't been many times when the stakes were as high as in this case. Tim wasn't getting any better, and the medical staff seemed to be clutching at straws, Gibbs would be lying if he said he hadn't lost sleep over what he saw last night, and what Ducky told them.

"Dr Henley is going to try dialysis, at this stage Timothy's kidneys are not failing, but there are toxins building up in his blood which should have been dealt with by antibodies. The dialysis will work by 'washing' the blood, removing all the impurities before pumping it back into Tim's bloodstream."

"Sounds simple Duck, how come you look so worried?"

"Dialysis itself is routine, as far as anything can be when we are dealing with the unknown…we simply don't know how Timothy's system will react to the process, or to the line we will have to insert. As you know his blood is not clotting as it should, so there are concerns about potential blood loss."

"Then they shouldn't do it! Timmy's so sick." Abby had clung on to Ducky, a look of panic in her eyes; he'd held her and let her cry.

"We're running out of options Abigail, and until we can identify exactly what is preventing the platelets doing their work, this is the best we can do. It's far from a perfect solution, but it will buy us some time."

With great reluctance they'd all left the hospital and gone to their own beds as instructed by Director Vance. Looking at Tony now, after a night obviously spent getting little or no sleep, Gibbs vowed they would work however many hours it took to find out why the homeless men had died, and why Tim was so sick. He was going to work for as long as necessary and if he didn't see his own home until Tim was on the mend…he could deal with that, and he knew the other members of his team felt the same.

"You're right Tony, we've done it before, and we can do it again. We work until this case is closed."

"I'm on it Boss!" Burying his fear that Tim's latest treatment wouldn't work, and putting aside the bitter disappointment that the warehouse had proved to be no help to the investigation, Tony switched on his computer and checked his messages. Nothing new from the other agents working the case, they'd been checking phone records for the warehouse, digging deeper into financial records for Eats4Streets and Dunster Real Estate. Al Nugent's team had managed to talk with the man who co-ordinated the food distribution volunteers and he was currently out interviewing Reverend Chambers. It was a slim lead, apparently they'd never gone to the warehouse but had joined up with the truck at a designated location near the areas where the homeless slept; when they had so little to go on, they'd take slim over nothing.

Ellie was over at Ned Dorneget's workstation putting the final touches to the map of homeless deaths in DC and beyond; if nothing else it would give them more locations to check traffic camera footage of the food truck. Maybe they'd get a look at the driver who had proved to be camera shy up to now. It may feel like clutching at straws, but it was all they had, until the moment Gibbs' phone rang.

"Gibbs…Good work! If he moves take him; we'll be there in twenty minutes." He thrust the phone back in his pocket. "Metro have a sighting on Boyce, he's at Union Station, just bought a ticket to Philadelphia; train leaves in thirty, let's move!"

NCIS NCIS

"Let me do it Boss, I can get him to talk."

Gibbs. Ellie and Tony were standing in the observation room, watching Ethan Boyce sneering at the guard standing beside him. They'd restrained themselves at the station, knowing they needed Boyce alive and able to answer questions. It was starting to look as if Tim's best chance of recovery was for them to get to the source of the Eats4Streets food. Boyce had tried to run, maybe hoping for a bullet to stop him, but they didn't fire, surrounding him and forcing him into surrender.

"Go Tony," He hurried out the door, Ellie couldn't hide her surprise and turned to face Gibbs. "You're not doing this?"

"Not right now, if he gets…I can step in if I have to. Tony needs to do this."

Ellie watched the glass, waiting for Tony to appear; the whole team thing was new to her, but she understood why he had to do this, she'd never felt the way she had last night and she hardly knew McGee. At first she'd been reluctant to go to the hospital, but they'd all insisted she was a part of the team and Tim would want to see her too, she'd gone along, and on the ride over it had occurred to her she could ask him if he had any ideas to move her search along. As soon as she'd seen him all thoughts of asking for his help disappeared.

He'd looked awful, Ellie couldn't believe he got so sick so fast, it seemed like it was draining all his energy just trying to keep up with the conversation. His breathing was shallow, his skin almost grey where it wasn't purple with bruises, he had a bandage on his right arm and two IV lines, but what filled her with most dread were his eyes. Usually so bright, so expressive, they seemed to have sunk deeper into his skull and had lost their lustre. She hadn't been on the team long, didn't seem to matter, these people had a way of making you a part of their crazy family real fast, and seeing him so sick, it had been like a physical punch to the gut. If she felt that way, how much worse did it have to be for Tony who'd worked beside McGee for years? Small wonder he had to be in there, asking the questions that could save his friend.

Tony held the door open as the guard stepped out into the hallway; he walked toward Boyce, willing himself to stay calm, to keep his hands off the man shackled to the metal table. As if reading his mind Boyce lifted his hands as far as he could.

"What have I done to deserve this? You said you wanted to ask me some questions and you start out treating me like a felon."

"Why did you run?" Tony sat down, put his folder on the table and leaned back, feigning a nonchalance he didn't feel.

"Why wouldn't I? I'm waiting for my train and a bunch of guys come running at me, you'd have run too."

"From uniformed cops? Don't think so Jonesy."

Boyce's head jerked up, a little of his self-control had slipped. Tony opened up the folder and took out a print of the picture Tim had taken when he was undercover. "Did you think a shave and a haircut was going to stop us finding you?"

Boyce glanced at the picture. "How…? It's a free country, if I want to sleep rough…nothing to stop me."

"Seems you didn't like it so much, look at you now all clean and tidy."

"A person can change their mind, I tried sleeping on the streets, now it's time I try something different, figured I'd take a look at Philadelphia."

Tony glanced at the notes in front of him, purely for effect, he knew without checking what Mayuira had found while they were at Union Station. "Philadelphia…wouldn't be much of a look would it? From the station to the airport before your flight to LAX and your connection to Caracas, Venezuela. Heck of a change from DC."

"So…you can't blame a guy for seeing the world, spreading his wings."

Tony pulled out three more pictures and laid them in front of Boyce. "Bet these guys wish they had the luxury of seeing the world."

Boyce stared past Tony, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

"Hey! Look at them!" Tony pushed the pictures across the table. "You know these men, and they're all dead."

"It happens, lots of sick people on the streets. I don't see what it has to do with me."

"Tell me about Eats4Streets." Tony's sudden change of direction dented Boyce's composure and beyond the glass Gibbs smiled grimly, so far, so good.

"Gibbs, you want to tell me why you're not in there?" Vance had slipped into the room, as anxious as everyone at NCIS to see what Boyce could tell them. He'd expected to see his most effective interrogator grilling their best hope for a way forward in the case.

"DiNozzo's doing a good job, he'll get Boyce to talk, just watch."

It took a few deep breaths before Boyce was ready to trust his voice. "They…far as I know, it's a charity, runs a food truck, saw it around a few times."

"I bet you did, 'cos you got around, didn't you 'Jonesy'? Everywhere people are dying you've been sniffing around."

"Look, I already told you I spent some time out there, tried different places, looking for a good place to stay."

"Seems like the food truck followed you." Tony could see the faint gleam of sweat appearing on Boyce's upper lip; time to press harder. "Tell me about the truck, who runs it?"

"I…why are you asking me, I don't understand, what does a food truck have to do with NCIS?"

There was a slight tremor in his voice and Tony pressed home his advantage. "Because someone's been tampering with the food, people have died, innocent men and women down on their luck." Tony pointed to the pictures of Goliath and Shorty. "The big problem for you is this guy was an army corporal, and this one…a US Marine. Corporal Whately and Sergeant Mitchell served their country with courage and distinction and you…you helped to get them killed."

"No! They…I didn't know, they never talked about…"

"So you did know them; that's bad news for you, because right now you're the only link we have to these deaths, means you're the only one going to take the fall."

"You can't pin anything on me, all I did was talk to them, get to know…"

"To know what, who was most vulnerable, who had family? You made a big mistake. My boss, he's a Marine, lives by the Semper Fi creed, he won't leave a man behind and he won't let a brother Marine die without justice."

Boyce looked again at the glass, but this time there was fear in his eyes. "He's through there, isn't he? You can't let him in here, he…I didn't know."

"So what do you know Boyce? Give me something to take to him and he might just let you out of here alive."

"I can't, you don't understand, it…he's doing important work, if you stop him…"

"Stop who?" Tony slammed his fist on the table. "Give me his name, now!"

"He…he had people everywhere, if I talk, he'll find me and…"

Tony took the few steps that had him side by side with his captor, he leaned down so Boyce could feel his breath as he spoke, low and menacing. "Whatever you think he'll do to you, however bad you think things can get, it's nothing to what I'll do."

"You…you can't, I…I have rights, you can't hurt me." Boyce was breathing fast, he felt sick to his stomach. Tony reached over the table and took one last picture from the folder and thrust it in front of Boyce. It was a picture he'd taken himself in Abby's lab, right after he'd sprayed Tim with the extra dose of cat pee, a picture they were meant to laugh over one night when they'd had a drink or two…he snapped back into the here and now and pointed at the picture. "You recognise him?"

Boyce couldn't speak, he was trying hard not to throw up, of course he recognised him, he'd seen him on the streets, this was bad, he felt it; he gave a single nod. Tony put his hand on Boyce's shoulder and squeezed, not hard, but just enough so Boyce would understand he meant business. "His name is Special Agent Timothy McGee, NCIS."

"No…I didn't know, how could I, it's not my fault, all this, you can't blame me."

"Let me finish Boyce, Special Agent McGee, he's real sick. You were scared of what my boss might do to you because you killed a Marine, believe me, right about now he's your best option. My partner, my friend is in the hospital; to save him there's nothing I wouldn't do!"

"You…they're filming this, I see the red light." His face lost the little colour he still had when the light went out.

"Told you Boyce, you messed with the wrong people, tell me what you know before I get even more…persuasive."

"He…you have to protect me. He has friends in high places…"

"I'm still waiting for a name."

"Vincent Cantwell, he…he paid me for information so he could get the truck where he wanted…it was all his idea!"

"Where can we find him?" Tony was ready to leave the instant they had an answer.

"It…today's Sunday, you won't be able to get to him, he sails every weekend, he'll be out on his yacht."

Tony gave a low chuckle. "You think Cantwell's the only one with friends? We can get to him." He turned to the glass knowing Gibbs would already be making the call.

"Hey Borin. Yeah I know it's Sunday, you got a Coast Guard Patrol boat we can use?"


	10. Chapter 10

8

"Abby…how long…? You should have woken me."

"No way Tim; you need as much rest as you can get, I'm good, you just relax." Truth was she'd been a little disappointed Tim was sleeping when she'd arrived with Ducky for afternoon visiting. The disappointment had been brief because it was obvious for all to see, her friend was desperately sick and whatever sleep he was getting could only be good for him.

Ducky had forewarned her that dialysis could be an exhausting process and there wouldn't necessarily be an immediate improvement in Tim's condition. However, one look at Ducky's face as he laid a gentle hand on Tim's forehead and checked the monitors told Abby the treatment hadn't helped Tim in the way Ducky had hoped. Within minutes of their arrival he'd gone in search of Dr Henley.

"I shan't be long my dear, do you want to come with me?"

"I'll stay, even if he's sleeping I...I'd rather be with him."

He'd kissed her and she'd settled in to watch, attempting to control the whirlpool of emotions stirred up by seeing Tim in his current condition. She'd watched the uneven rise and fall of his chest, noted the slightly erratic heartbeat on the monitor, seen the ever-deepening shadows under his eyes and she'd wanted to wrap him in her arms and wish it all away. Only it wasn't going away, he was getting worse every time she saw him, and it was breaking her heart that her beloved science wasn't riding to his rescue.

Back at the lab she'd worked so hard with Jimmy and Ducky, and she knew they were working here at the hospital too; examining every sample they had, checking every resource available to them, all in a vain search for something to halt Tim's deterioration. It was on Jimmy's insistence that she'd taken a break to visit Tim, her own promise to see him only when they had something to help swept away by the hours of futile testing and searching; Jimmy had told her another hour wouldn't make a difference and he'd carry on working while they spent some time at the hospital, for the last thirty minutes Abby had debated whether she should have stayed at NCIS, but now Tim was awake, she knew Jimmy had been right. Seeing him, talking with him…oh how much she wanted to hold on to him; she wouldn't do it, given the ease with which he was getting bruised she was scared to touch him. He seemed to sense her reluctance and reached out to her.

"Hold my hand Abs…please? I feel…everyone's tip-toeing round…"

"If you're sure, I don't want to hurt you."

He smiled, it wasn't the warmest smile she'd ever seen from him, but it was precious because she knew how much effort it was costing him just to stay awake. "You okay Abs…? You look tired."

"We've been busy and…we miss having you around."

"I miss being there…all this…wasn't expecting…" His voice, barely more than a raspy whisper became a dry, gasping cough, he tried to reach the beaker on the bedside table.

"I've got it Tim; here." Abby held the beaker, and carefully put the straw in his mouth. "Steady sips, that's it, not too much."

Tim leaned back against the pillows, a few words and he was already exhausted. "Thanks…better now…just so tired…"

"Don't fight it Tim, sleep. We're going to find out what's causing this, I promise. Gibbs and Tony are on their way to get the guy behind this and when they get him, you know they'll make him talk."

"If anyone can…Abs, tell them…everyone, they should…get sleep too…important to rest…"

His eyes closed and he was asleep before Abby could answer, it was just as well, because she wouldn't lie to him, and there was no way they'd be resting, not until they had answers. A few minutes later Ducky entered quietly and for the last few minutes of their allotted hour they sat quietly, growing ever more fearful, Abby knew Dr Henley's news hadn't been good or Ducky would have come in smiling. She managed to restrain herself until they were in the elevator. "Ducky, please tell me."

He stared at the chrome doors, this wouldn't be the only time he'd have to say it, but telling Abby would be the most difficult…

NCIS NCIS

Under most other circumstances this would have been one of the most exciting rides of Tony DiNozzo's life, bouncing the Atlantic waves in a US Coast Guard UTB was the stuff of James Bond fuelled dreams, but today…he wanted it to be over so they could get to the yacht and question Vincent Cantwell. They'd get the answer from him, they had to, Cantwell had to know how they could save his friend because right now he was their only hope, Star Wars. "Hey Probie-Wan I just…" For an instant he'd forgotten and turned to the person by his side thinking it was Tim, because it should be him, he shouldn't be…

Luckily the roar of the engine and the wind meant his mistake hadn't been heard, he didn't need Gibbs to see how close he was to the edge. He'd been doing okay, just about, right until the moment Ducky called. They'd landed at Norfolk, courtesy of a Marine helicopter, and were heading to the dock when Gibbs' phone sounded, he'd put it on speaker when he saw Ducky's name on caller ID; whatever he had to say it was best they heard it together. "How's he doing?"

"Badly…Jethro, we're out of options. You have to get to Cantwell, and he has to tell you what was in the food, we've done everything we can, I fear…Timothy is fading Jethro and we can't help him, he's relying on you, we all are."

With Ducky's words echoing in their minds they'd raced to the quayside and boarded the UTB. "Gibbs, we're ready for you, let's move!"

"Borin, thought it was your day off?"

"Not when a friend's in trouble Gibbs; from the look of you I'm guessing McGee's not doing any better."

"He needs us to be moving, not talking." Gibbs strode toward the bow without another word. Abigail Borin signalled to the boat skipper and the engines fired, Tony gave a quick smile. "He doesn't mean anything, we're all…"

"Don't worry Tony, I'd be the same if it was one of my team. Can you tell me, how is he?"

Tony stared out to sea, blinking as the salt breeze hit his face. "We're not going to lose him, I don't care what the doctor says, Tim's stronger than they think…they don't know him like I do. We have to help him, get to Cantwell and make him talk."

This was a Tony she'd never seen before, gone was the wisecracking man about DC, eager to charm everyone in his path; the man in front of her was driven, focussed on a single purpose, and he was scared. She gripped his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "We'll get him Tony, we have his position, he's not getting away, you hold on tight and let us take the strain for a while."

From then on Tony hadn't taken his eyes off the horizon, standing beside Gibbs they'd peered ahead, knowing each minute was bringing them closer to Cantwell's yacht. After what seemed way too long Gibbs pointed and called out. "There. Your two-o-clock Tony, you see it?"

"Oh yeah, not long now."

"Gibbs, there's a call for you on the radio, Ellie Bishop? Said she had to speak to you."

"Thanks Borin, she's a newbie, joint assignment with the DoD." He followed her to the bridge and picked up the radio. "Bishop, you have something?"

"I thought you could use some background information on Cantwell before you interview him."

"Go ahead."

"Okay, Vincent Cantwell, 63 years old, owns more than thirty companies, not that he makes it obvious; one of them is Dunster Real Estate, I remembered his name from the warehouse search…not important, what is…hidden deep inside his portfolio is Aborah Labtech, one of the foremost research labs in the country, and get this Gibbs, they specialise in haematology research. There are whispers they're trying for a military contract, nothing concrete, the Director's trying to get answers, but it's not easy on the weekend. Aborah's been investigated more than once, medical ethics violations, nothing stuck, looks like Cantwell has friends in high places."

"They won't help him this time, good work Bishop, out."

Gibbs hurried back to Tony and passed on the information, Tony was still staring forward, taking in every curve of Cantwell's pride and joy.

"Look at that thing, how much would something like that cost?"

"Seven figures easy, won't do him any good in prison."

"Can we prove anything Boss? We only have Boyce's word…"

"And my gut, yours too. He's behind this Tony, we know it."

"We'll be alongside in five minutes Gibbs, I'll come aboard with you as Coast Guard representative, but it's your interview." Borin was prepared to give them some leeway with the interview; Tim McGee was a good agent, and she liked him. If Cantwell was the man behind his illness and the other deaths she'd heard about, he didn't deserve the kid glove treatment and if Gibbs and Tony went a little beyond normal boundaries, she would most likely be turning a blind eye.

NCIS NCIS

"Tim…Tim, it's me again, I'm sorry to wake you."

Tim's eyes opened slowly and he blinked as he tried to focus on the person beside him; Nurse Casillas. "More tests?"

"We need another blood sample I'm afraid, and there are a couple of mental acuity tests. I'll just get you sitting up a little." She adjusted the angle of the bed and smoothed his pillows. "How's that?"

"Good, thanks." Tim watched as she drew blood, at least he didn't have to endure the search for a vein any longer, they'd put in a cannula and used it instead. He answered all the questions asked of him, although he had to concentrate really hard on a couple, and they weren't difficult; his head felt…it was starting to feel like it didn't belong to him. "Nurse, would you…? There's, in my bag, a notepad and pen."

She opened the cupboard and took out his go-bag. Tim couldn't help a slight grimace…just a couple of days ago he'd been so sure he'd be using the clothes in the bag and getting out of here, now…"There you go, is this what you wanted?"

"Thank you."

"Is there anything else?"

"No thanks…just have some thinking to do."

NCIS NCIS

They'd found Vincent Cantwell siting in the sun deck of his Lagoon 560 catamaran, the _Primera Sangra, _he was relaxed, totally at ease in his surroundings, and he didn't appear at all disconcerted by the sudden arrival of armed federal agents on his yacht. Gibbs showed his badge and took a moment to weigh up the man he knew for sure was at the root of Tim's illness. Cantwell was a shade under six feet tall, around 200lb, receding light brown hair, dark brown eyes, his face tanned by many hours at sea. He was dressed in light grey chinos and a white cable sweater, and looked completely at home. He simply oozed charm and calm, Gibbs wanted to knock the easy smile right off his face, he wouldn't do it, this was a time for cool heads.

"So Special Agent Gibbs, what brings you all the way out here this fine Sunday afternoon?" Cantwell's voice was mellow, with the slightest hint of a Massachusetts accent, and without a hint of tension.

"We want to know what you're doing at Aborah."

There was a slight reaction, a brief glance to the man on his left, but within a breath Cantwell was in control again. "I don't have much to do with the day to day running of the company, but I'll be happy to help any way I can."

"Can you tell me why you're feeding contaminated food to homeless people?"

Tony took a step closer as Cantwell grinned; a look from Gibbs stilled him.

"Why ever would you think my client has anything to do with such a thing?" The dark-haired, rotund man sitting beside Cantwell had suddenly come to life. Gibbs turned to Cantwell, making no attempt to disguise the contempt in his voice. "You take your lawyer everywhere?"

"Hardly Agent Gibbs, Owen is here as a friend; yes he is my attorney, but I have no need of his services today. Contaminated food you say? I can tell you hand on heart, no company within my remit has ever been involved in such a thing."

"So when we get a search warrant and rip your lab apart, we won't find anything that caused the deaths of innocent people."

"There's not a judge out there who'll give you a search warrant on such tenuous grounds."

"Rest easy Owen." Cantwell handed his friend a glass. "Help yourself to another drink, I'm happy to deal with our naval friends." He gave Gibbs a well-rehearsed smile. "Let's talk together, you and I, cards on the table. Aborah is a company close to my heart, they do wonderful work."

"Wonderful…you call killing innocent men and women wonderful?"

Cantwell shrugged, and it took every last ounce of Gibbs' self-control not to knock him down. "When you're doing ground-breaking work, there's always the possibility of collateral damage."

"Don't you dare! They were people, good people who'd fallen on hard times. You have the chance to make something right, we have five more in the hospital, they're real sick, you can save them, just give us the antidote."

"They weren't people, they're vermin, and if our work got some of them off our streets, so much the better. As for an antidote, we're developing bioweapons to use against the scum of the earth Agent Gibbs, why on earth would I care about an antidote? The people you say are sick, if they're strong enough they'll survive, if not…we're rid of a few more rats."


	11. Chapter 11

8

**As usual I have thanked everyone personally who enabled me to do so. Gail and earthdragon, my sincere thanks for your very different, but equally welcome reviews! **

Tony launched himself at Cantwell and it took the combined efforts of Gibbs and Borin to hold him back.

"Let me…he's lying, there has to be something."

Gibbs pulled him aside. "Tony, stand down, this won't help. God knows if I thought it would help I'd beat him to a pulp myself." He loosened his grip slightly. "Can I trust you to keep your hands off him?"

Gritting his teeth, Tony nodded once. "He has to be lying Boss, they'd never do something like that without an antidote."

"Agent DiNozzo is right Mr Cantwell." Borin decided to try a little good cop. "It hardly seems likely you'd put your own employees at risk by developing toxins and not having an antidote to hand."

"It might not seem likely, however, it's true; and we weren't developing toxins."

"Vince, I think you should stop talking, you don't have to tell them anything."

"Don't worry Owen, I'm proud of what we do, and it's about time more people knew about the cutting edge work we're doing."

"What if they bring charges?"

Cantwell patted his friend on the shoulder. "If they're stupid enough to do that, I have friends who'll make it go away. Now Agent…sorry I don't think I got your name."

"Special Agent Borin, US Coast Guard."

"Of course, as I said we're not developing toxins, we're working on delivering something much more sophisticated; a…well I suppose you'd call it a biological time bomb. My scientists have been working on a way to use the body's defence mechanisms to work against itself by altering enzymes and factors in the blood. It was such an obvious way of delivering a biological weapon, all we have to do is some fine-tuning and we'll be able to present it to potential buyers."

"You'd sell to the highest bidder?"

"No! I'm no terrorist Agent Gibbs, our product will help in our fight against the people who want to bring our great nation to its knees."

"By killing US citizens?"

"There's always a price to pay for leaps in science, these people, they were helping in a great cause."

"But they didn't know Cantwell, you never gave them a choice."

"Oh yes I did; if they weren't on the streets, begging for food, leeching off society, they'd never have eaten the modified food. All they had to do was live as useful members of society and they'd never have come within a mile of a food truck."

It was too much for Tony, he went for Cantwell and before Gibbs or Borin could intervene he had him by the throat. "You want a useful member of society, how about a federal agent?"

"Tony! DiNozzo, stand down!"

"Boss…"

"Let him go Tony, this isn't the time. He'll get what's coming to him, right now we need him to talk."

"I can assure you Agent Gibbs, my client will not be saying another word, and we'll be pressing charges." Owen Fahy was on his feet, pointing animatedly at Tony. "He's not going to get away with assault."

Cantwell rubbed his throat lightly; he seemed remarkably unconcerned by Tony's attack, he picked up his wine glass and took a sip. "Owen please, you're getting overexcited. Agent DiNozzo, before your…outburst, I believe there was a question?"

"You really don't care do you?" Tony was struggling to comprehend how a man could be so unconcerned by the grief he'd caused. "You've let people die because you want to make more money?"

"I must stop you there; it was never about money, I want to protect the country I love."

Gibbs stepped forward, his face a mask of supressed rage. "What about the people who served this country, who put their lives on the line? You've killed men who fought for you."

"They were on the streets?"

Gibbs nodded.

"Then they were weak, like the others, if they'd been true military men they wouldn't have fallen so low. They were prepared to live with the scum of the earth, they should have been prepared to die with them."

"How about an NCIS agent. You think he should be prepared to die too?"

Cantwell put his glass down on the table, but not before they'd noticed the slight tremor in his hand. "NCIS? Why would one of your agents be on the streets with them?"

"Because we were investigating the murder of a Marine, and he went undercover with the homeless. Slept on the street, ate with them too." Gibbs could see he'd finally hit home, Cantwell's studied indifference was being replaced by the first vague inkling that maybe his friends on The Hill wouldn't be able to help him wriggle out of this hole. "He…he was in the wrong place, they're useless don't you see? Clogging up our streets, living in their own filth, I thought…testing on them, I thought no one would care."

Gibbs lifted him up out of his chair, pulled his arms behind his back and fastened the handcuffs as tight as he could. "Unless you're going to tell me you were lying about the antidote you might want to shut up, because if one more word come out of your mouth about homeless people being expendable, you're going overboard."

"This is outrageous!" Owen Fahy was on his feet, gesturing at the crew members who'd gathered to watch. "There are witnesses Agent Gibbs, if you do anything to harm my client I'll not only have your badge, you'll end up in prison."

Gibbs pushed Cantwell toward Tony. "Get him on the UTB." He looked at Fahy with such intensity the lawyer took a step back and almost stumbled. "You're threatening me with jail time? Listen to me; if my man dies, I'll be coming for Cantwell and whoever worked with him on this…if I go to prison, I'd do my time with a smile on my face."

"We should be getting back Gibbs, the skipper says there's a storm coming in." Borin didn't think Gibbs would harm Cantwell or Fahy, not when Cantwell might still have information that could help McGee, she just figured the sooner they were back on dry land, away from the confines of the yacht, the better things would be.

NCIS NCIS

The trip back to Norfolk had been tense, the roar of the engines and the increasing force of the wind made conversation impossible. Gibbs and Tony wanted one more try at Cantwell; there had to be more he could tell them. If not, they'd search the lab, Cantwell's home, offices, anywhere they might find something to help Tim and the others.

Vance had once again arranged helicopter transport and Gibbs thanked Borin for her help as she walked with him to the helipad.

"Anything for a friend Gibbs, I hope…"

"Yeah, me too."

"Will you call…with news?"

"When we know something for certain." Gibbs seemed to have more lines on his face than when they'd sailed out to the _Primera Sangre, _a deep frown he'd had ever since Cantwell told them there was no antidote. She rested her hand on his arm and tried to smile. "Tony says he's going to make it."

"From his lips to God's ears. I should get aboard before Tony rips Cantwell's head off." With that he turned on his heel and ran for the chopper, he was fast, but not so fast Borin didn't see the watery brightness in his eyes.

They'd got back to NCIS to find the team hard at work, all except Ducky. "He's back at the hospital; Dr Henley wanted to discuss McGee's treatment options." Vance was standing with them in the observation room, watching Cantwell being led into interrogation. "The search warrants for Cantwell's properties will be ready within the hour."

Gibbs whistled low. "On a weekend? How did you manage that?"

"Not me, SecNav. One of her oldest friends is a Deputy Presiding Judge in the Criminal Division of the DC Superior Court."

"Now that's what I call a friend in a very useful place. I'll take one more crack at him, if we get nothing we'll join the search teams."

NCIS NCIS

It seemed as if Cantwell had decided to finally heed his attorney's advice and keep his mouth shut, but after having Gibbs stare at him for a while he'd started talking again. "You're not getting any more from me, there's nothing to give. I've already said too much, I know you people, you don't understand what we're doing and you'll take everything I've said and twist it to make me sound like some kind of evil monster."

"Oh believe me Cantwell, we won't have to do any twisting, you're one sick bastard and soon everyone will know it."

"What people will know is that I'm a visionary; I see things no one else can see, do things no one else is prepared to do. Do you really think our military leaders will care how the bioweapon was tested so long as it works and kills the maniacs out to destroy our way of life?"

Gibbs leaned menacingly over the table. "They'll care Cantwell, because I'll make sure they understand exactly what you did to the five former service personnel we know about, if there are others it will be even worse for you…and the NCIS agent you put in the hospital, did I tell you his father's a Navy Admiral?" Cantwell blanched as Gibbs leaned closer. "You think the Navy's going to buy your filth when they killed the son of one of their own?"

The door opened and an expensively suited, well-groomed man strode into the room. "Step away from the table Agent Gibbs; I'm Reece Griffith, here on behalf of Mr Fahy and he's warned me about your strong-arm tactics. You cannot harass our client like this, if you're not prepared to charge him I'm leaving with him right now."

Gibbs straightened up, an icy smile on his face. "Believe me Mr Griffith, we're more than ready to charge your client; how does twenty-three counts of negligent homicide sound for starters? Most likely there'll be conspiracy charges to come, maybe terrorist charges too. You might want to send out for dinner, you're going to be here for a while."

Feeling as if he was suffocating in the confined space of the interrogation room Gibbs left without another word; he got into the corridor eager to breathe air that wasn't contaminated by Cantwell's presence and the frustrations of the day crashed in on him. He raised his fist, ready to hit the wall as hard as he could. "Don't do it Boss, you want to hit something, hit me, less likely to break your hand that way."

He didn't hit Tony, but he leaned against him, gulping in air like a drowning man. "He's so…he doesn't see it, he killed twenty-three innocent people and he doesn't care."

"Twenty-five…two of the men being treated at United Medical Center died this afternoon."

"Damn it! We have to stop this Tony, not just for Tim's sake, we can't let any more people die."

They worked on into the night, assisting the search teams at the lab, supplying Abby with CafPow as she worked ceaselessly with Jimmy and Ducky on the samples they had retrieved. They interviewed Cantwell's lab team, dragging them out of bed if necessary; but whatever they did and whoever they talked with the outcome was the same. Cantwell hadn't been lying, there really was no antidote, he'd ordered his scientists to concentrate on the disease, not the cure.

Dr Craig Boulter, Medical Director of Aborah LabTech had co-operated fully, he'd become increasingly uncomfortable with the way test results were coming back to him, and incredibly frustrated that Vincent Cantwell treated him like some kind of indentured servant. He'd held on so long because the lab facilities were second to none, and he believed that America had to fight fire with fire, and hit their enemies in their own homes. "We have to get them before they get us, but not like this…I never knew…"

"Where did you think he was getting the results, volunteers?" Tony couldn't keep the biting sarcasm out of his voice, this guy was supposed to be a brilliant scientist and he'd never once asked where Cantwell was finding 'subjects' for their tests.

"I…guess I didn't want to know, if I stayed out of it I could concentrate on the science, and it's a brilliant concept, altering the genetic make-up of blood factors…" His voice tailed off as Boulter realised the mistake he'd made, talking about scientific breakthroughs when people were dying. "I'm sorry, that was…let me work with your doctors, if there's any way we can reverse the process we have to work right back to the source material."

"Can it work?" Gibbs turned to Ducky, the first glimmer of a distant hope in his eyes. Ducky sighed. "I wish…Jethro I wish I could say yes, but I very much fear Timothy has run out of time, even if we find a way to reverse this, he's so weak I'm afraid we're too late."

"Doctor…" Jimmy had entered the conference room unnoticed. He looked about as exhausted as the rest of them, but there was something about the way he was walking, there wasn't a spring in his step, things were way too serious for that, but he wasn't here to pass the time of day that was for sure. "There may be a way we can help him, the others too, it…it's not a cure, but it will buy us some time."


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: Thanks as ever for all the reviews, favourites and follows…earthdragon, you hit the nail on the head; it was the monstrous disregard for human life demonstrated by Mengele and his ilk that 'inspired' the character of Vince Cantwell.

I hope you all enjoy the chapter, one more to go after this…

**Chapter Twelve**

"What? Jimmy, tell us!"

Faced with Gibbs' direct order and the hopeful looks from everyone else in the room Jimmy was suddenly tongue-tied. Ducky ushered his assistant aside. "Take a breath…good lad, now what do you have in mind?"

"It's not me exactly, I mean, I read about it a while ago in a magazine at my dentist's office."

"Mr Palmer, I'm hardly the person to complain about a roundabout tale, but this is not the time, the point if you will."

"Yes…sorry, no don't apologise…" Jimmy took a very deep breath and focussed on his mentor. "There's something we could try; it's called a hypoxic tent, athletes use it to simulate high altitude conditions. If people spend 10-12 hours a day in there it releases erythropoietin…"

"And leads to increased production of red blood cells. Oh well done Jimmy, you may have given Timothy a lifeline. I'll call Dr Henley right away and see about getting it set up. Jimmy, contact UMC, I doubt they'll have the resources to equip three beds with tents, assure them I will deal with the funding. Go, there's no time to waste."

NCIS NCIS

They'd started work as quickly as they could setting up the hypoxic tent, yet to everyone waiting for news on Tim's condition it seemed to take forever.

Tim had been slipping in and out of consciousness all the while the medical staff had been erecting the hypoxic tent around his bed, he didn't talk, simply taking a breath used all the energy he still possessed. Whether he was aware of what was happening they didn't know, Jimmy had kept up a running commentary for him as the technicians put up the metal frame and fitted the plastic shell. "There'll be some noise Tim, the generator running the filter is pretty noisy, but we'll set it up in the bathroom so it's quieter for you, don't want you to be disturbed okay? Now, so you know, we'll be filtering the air so you take in more nitrogen and less oxygen than usual, it isn't harmful, just not what us sea level dwellers are used to. Then your body will start producing EPO, that's the hormone some professional cyclists have been caught using illegally, and don't worry we won't be expecting you to ride the Tour de France."

Jimmy halted for a second, was it his imagination or did he just get a smile out of Tim? "It won't be an instant fix, but you just hang in there and you'll start fighting back soon. Can you do that for us?" He almost cried when he saw Tim struggle to mouth a single word. "Try…"

"I know you'll try, and we'll be with you every step of the way, so if there's anything you need, one of us will be just the other side of the tent ready to do whatever you want. I have to step aside now Tim so they can seal the tent." He touched Tim's wrist lightly, nervous as everyone else was that the slightest pressure could cause another bruise. "You won't be alone Tim, I promise."

They'd been as good as Jimmy's word, and had maintained a vigil throughout Tim's thirty hours in the hypoxic tent. It had been a frustration almost beyond endurance to be at arm's length from him, to be so close, and yet to feel as if the thin, transparent barrier had taken him beyond their reach.

Life had gone on outside the hospital as it always did, and they'd completed all the tasks necessary to ensure Vincent Cantwell never again walked the earth a free man. Director Vance had been prepared to call in every favour he was owed to get a terrorism charge; as it turned out he had no need, the Judge Advocate General herself, who knew and greatly admired Admiral John McGee, had given Vance the opening he needed, Cantwell would be charged under the Biological Weapons Anti-Terrorism Act, in conjunction with the negligent homicide charges it would ensure he'd be going to jail for the rest of his life.

Ducky, Abby and Jimmy had worked long and hard with Boulter and the Aborah LabTech teams, but thus far they'd come up empty handed, Boulter had promised he'd keep working, and they believed him, As the full extent of Cantwell's subversion had emerged Boulter had worked like a man possessed, he'd colluded in the deaths of so many, if he could save three…it wouldn't be near enough, however, it was something. If there was anything to be found he'd find it, the hours had ticked inexorably on; twelve hours into the search for answers they got the news that the nameless woman who had been in critical condition at UMC had died; then ten hours after that the tragedy was compounded when the homeless man they'd identified as Jorge Martinez had also died, leaving Tim as the only survivor of Cantwell's insane scheme.

Gibbs leaned forward in his chair, the only way he could get even a little closer to Tim, he'd deteriorated so quickly it was becoming increasingly difficult to believe he could beat this, how could he when whatever it was had almost drained every bit of life from him. The unblemished areas of skin were no longer pale, they were grey, the bruises were deep purple, so deep they were almost black, and he was still, aside from the laboured rise and fall of his chest he was absolutely still, almost as if…he couldn't die, not like this, he had too much to live for, too many people rooting for him, praying for him.

"You think this will work Duck?"

"It has to, Jethro, Dr Boulter and his team at Aborah have promised to keep trying, but I fear our earliest thoughts were correct, once the modified enzyme is triggered there is no stopping the damage…the doctors here will keep him as comfortable as possible and if just one treatment option presents itself you can be sure we will take it. In the meantime we must watch and wait, and pray our young friend finds the strength to hold on, unlike the poor victims at UMC, God rest their souls." Ducky shook his head. "I find it impossible to understand how Cantwell thought he could get away with this, so many deaths, how could he hide it?"

"He almost did Duck; would we have gone near the homeless if Sergeant Roe hadn't been killed? Maybe we're all guilty of neglect…" Gibbs became aware of a sharp pain in his hands and looked down to see his fingernails digging deep into his palms, he had to stop this, so much tension…he couldn't help it, thinking of Cantwell and what he'd done to so many people, what his evil meddling was still doing to Tim.

"He'll pay Tim, you have our word, he'll pay for what he's done." Gibbs knew it was more complicated than that; there were others who were culpable in what had gone on at Aborah, and there were those who'd been willing to offer Cantwell money for the foulness he was producing. They'd all be dealt with, but he was content to let other people take over, he'd spent enough time in the cesspit that was Cantwell's mind, he wanted to clear him from his head and concentrate on helping Tim, and helping his team too. They'd need his strength to get them through this…who was he kidding, he'd need them too, he couldn't watch Tim fighting for every breath without their support.

"Can't they put him on a ventilator Duck? It's getting harder for him to breathe."

"They daren't risk it, the intubation process can be quite…well, let's just say it's an invasive procedure, and considering the difficulty they had controlling the bleeding after the dialysis…if there's any damage to his trachea, I fear we couldn't stop the bleeding."

Gibbs continued to stare through the plastic, watching Tim fight for every breath. "How long can he go on like this?"

With a deep sigh Ducky got up, checked the monitors, then he stepped close to the tent and studied Tim's breathing. How long…? He very much feared not much longer. "Every hour he spends in there gives him a better chance; if we can only get his red blood cell count up." He took a few steps to the door. "I'll go and see Dr Henley, he should have the results of Timothy's latest blood test." He hurried out of the room and Gibbs was left alone with Tim, and with the sounds that were fast becoming part of their lives, the quiet beeps of the monitors as they kept track of Tim's vital signs, the low hum of the generator powering the filter maintaining the required nitrogen level inside the tent.

"Tim, I'm not even sure you can hear us…Don't make Ducky call your grandmother; oh yeah, he told me what you asked…you should have let your family know you're sick. Don't worry, I won't go against your wishes, I think you're wrong, but I respect your reasons."

Gibbs leaned back, stretched his arms above his head and turned his head from side to side in an attempt to alleviate some of the stiffness resulting from hours spent in the same position with the same fears tightening his gut. Another gasping breath, more ragged with every passing minute had Gibbs out of his chair. "Keep going Tim, I know it's tough, well, you're tough too. You don't always show it, but I saw it the very first time I met you; in Somalia…you were a hero Tim Afghanistan too, you could have left me at the women's shelter, left me to deal with things…you stayed, you didn't take the easy option. Don't take it now, please."

NCIS NCIS

Ducky walked slowly along the corridor, his conversation with Dr Henley had given him the faintest glimmer of hope. As Tim's friend he wanted to hang on to it, and pray the glimmer turned into a flame; as a doctor he knew the odds were very much against such a positive outcome. The latest blood tests showed Tim's platelet count was improving, the progress was slow, perhaps too slow, his other test results were less encouraging and unless he regained consciousness it was only a matter of time before Tim's organs started to fail.

How could he tell them? How do you stand in front of people who mean the world to you and tell them one of their own was dying, and all because he'd done his job? They already knew the mutated enzyme had been delivered through the food served by Eats4Streets, Dr Boulter had been able to provide them with more detail. Some of the enzymes started acting immediately, attacking the blood, and the homeless men and women, already undernourished and lacking proper healthcare, they'd succumbed quickly. It had been Cantwell's aim to use this enzyme against the weak, the old, the young; it was beyond Ducky's comprehension how a man could deliberately set out to kill the most vulnerable members of society. Whether he perceived them as a threat to the United States or not, to make a child so sick they would suffer and die a painful death, it was truly beyond belief.

For the more able bodied, and for the soldiers who fought against America he had different ideas, the enzymes his team was developing for them were in the earlier stages of testing. They were also delivered in the food, but once metabolised, lay dormant until triggered by a hormone, adrenaline…no one could know how long the enzyme would have lain dormant in Tim, but his fate was sealed the day he chased down Saragonis. The deadly mutation started its evil work as soon as the adrenaline coursed through Tim's body as he raced in pursuit and body-tackled their suspect. According to Dr Boulter, Tim's survival thus far was due to his having eaten only once at the food truck; had he stayed with the homeless any longer, eaten one more meal…

"Hey Ducky, any change?"

"Goodness! Tony, you startled me. He's much the same I'm afraid; no Abigail this evening."

"She'll be along soon, she went to meet with Reverend Chambers, see how the new food distribution is going. I think it helps her to keep busy, less time to think about, you know…what might happen."

"I do know, indeed I do. Tony…I have something…I'd been hoping there would be no need to pass this to you, but I fear…"

"Ducky, what's wrong? You said he was the same."

"And he is…however, in this case being the same is not a good thing. Tony, his breathing…it's getting so difficult for him…"

"He's going to make it Ducky, he can't come this far and…the tent's working, Dr Henley told us."

"Timothy's blood platelets are improving, which is exactly what we wanted, sadly we may have started treatment too late. You must understand, what he's been through, it's…Tony, it's draining the life from him." Unable to look at Tony's anguished face, Ducky reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper. "He…before Jimmy thought of the tent, Tim asked two things of me, one I hope never to do, the other…he wanted you to have this, I haven't read it, but I think you might want to look at it before Abby gets here." He handed the paper to Tony. "I'll go and let Jethro know you're here, as soon as you're ready we'll head home."

Tony stared at the folded paper in his hand, before he lost his nerve he opened it up and read the brief lines written there. The handwriting was shaky, and there were several crossings-out, writing this had obviously been important to Tim, and it had cost him some effort at a time when he should have been conserving his energy. Tony read it through quickly, staggering back against the wall as the enormity of what those few words meant struck him with the force of a physical blow.

_Tony_

_Things aren't looking so good for me, the docs are trying everything but I can see in their eyes they're running out of options. It's not how I imagined it would end, we've been through so much, gunfire, explosions, and in the end, my own blood's killing me._

_If they can't stop whatever's happening and I don't make it, I have something to ask. Would you call Delilah and tell her? I don't want her to hear from a stranger and you always know the right thing to say. When you talk with her, it's so easy, so natural, I can't; when I talk I always say the wrong thing. I tried so hard to show her I love her, but I think I tried too hard, pushed her away instead of bringing us closer together. _

_Please do this for me Tony, the way things are going it's the last favour I'll ever ask for. We've had our ups and downs, but I know you've always had my six, hope you know I've always had yours. Goodbye partner._

_Tim_

7


	13. Chapter 13

7

**Negligent Homicide**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Tony's hand clenched into a fist, crushing the paper, no…no, absolutely not; he ran into Tim's room, and took a shaky breath before he trusted himself to speak to Gibbs and Ducky. "Can you…? I need a minute with him, alone."

"Tony…"

"I'm good Boss, just have a few things I want to say."

"Okay, first you sit down and calm down, or we're not going anywhere."

Ducky waited until Tony was seated and patted him on the shoulder. "Give yourself a moment to think, we'll be just outside if you need anything."

Tony nodded, waited until he heard the door close, he opened his fist, smoothed out the paper on his thigh, then stood up and stepped as close as he could to the bed. He held the note up to the plastic barrier and stared at his friend, willing him to hear what he was about to say. "I'm not doing this Tim, because you're not dying, not today, not tomorrow. You're going to get through this, and when you're ready you're going to get back at me for spraying you with cat pee. You promised you'd do it, and a good Boy Scout never goes back on his promise. You want to say goodbye to me McGee, you say it to my face, you hear me? This…this is the coward's way out, and you're no coward, show me the lion's heart Tim." Tony leaned his forehead against the plastic, his energy suddenly spent, he felt lost and empty. "We're good together Tim, crazy sometimes, but we…all of us, we're a great team, tell me I'm wrong."

There was no response, he hadn't been expecting one, Tim lay still and quiet in his own world; Tony just had to say it out loud, to tell him to live, to keep breathing…that was when it hit him, something was wrong, the quiet…He raced to the door. "We need help in here, Ducky, help him!"

Ducky hurried into the room as Gibbs grabbed Tony's arm. "Tony…"

"He's not breathing…I didn't…I was talking too loud, not listening, then…it was so quiet…"

Gibbs held on to Tony as Dr Henley rushed past them, this wasn't good…

"Why are you out here, did you leave him alone? We promised he wouldn't be alone…" Abby stopped for a second and took a look at Tony's face. "What's wrong? Something has to be…" She reached out for the door handle.

"Abby!" Gibbs had been so focussed on Tony and what might be happening with Tim he hadn't heard her arrive, now he had to keep them both out of the room. "Tim…Ducky's with him, Dr Henley too."

She felt a wave of heat rise up through her body, her vision clouded and just as her knees gave way Abby felt strong arms holding her upright. She was guided to a chair and as clarity returned she saw Gibbs and Tony standing either side of her. "Gibbs, tell me please."

"We don't know anything Abs, Tony…he thinks something may be wrong so he got the experts in to help. Just sit quiet, they'll let us know soon enough."

How soon was soon enough? They waited five minutes, ten…and every minute felt like hours; in reality it was barely twenty minutes before Ducky opened the door, and wonder of wonders, he was smiling.

"It's remarkable; Tony, he hadn't stopped breathing, it was quiet because Timothy's respiration has normalised, he doesn't have to fight for every breath…It's very early days, and there's no sign of him waking up as yet."

Abby was on her feet hugging him. "He's going to get better! Ducky, is he, is he really…?"

"Dr Henley has to run some more tests, but so far things are looking very positive; let's take things one small step at a time."

_Sixteen Hours Later_

"I know Ducky said small steps McSleepyhead, but you're taking it to extremes. How about you open your eyes?"

There was no movement, Tim was as still as he had been for the long fear-filled days they'd spent hoping and praying for his recovery. The fear had faded when Ducky told them he was on the mend, they'd each taken their turn to sit with him, full of renewed optimism. Much to their delight, Abby's most of all, the hypoxic tent had been removed and she could finally hold his hand, and yet…he hadn't moved, not once. The single discernible change in his condition remained the ease with which he was able to breathe. His chest rose and fell in a reassuringly regular motion, there was no struggle now, Tim's breathing was as it should be. If only he'd show some other sign that things were getting better.

"Abby finally went home, Ducky and Gibbs had to practically drag her out of here…come on Tim, you can do this, don't make us wait until your bruises are faded before you wake up. Remember what you promised me…I don't know what gets into me, I mean, cat pee…why do I do it? Stupid question, I know why; you can take the guy out of the fraternity, but you can't take the frat out of the guy."

"Ya…think?"

It was whispered so low, for a second Tony thought he'd imagined it, he snapped his head up and looked into Tim's face. "Oh man, you're sneaky…it…I can't tell you…"

An eyebrow went up, and Tim gave a tired smile. "Tongue…tied, you?"

Tony was grinning, he wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout…he settled for planting a kiss on Tim's forehead. "I promised Delilah I'd do that when you woke up."

"You…talked with…? What about…note?"

"Yeah well, you and me are going to talk about the note later, right now I have to get the doctor and make some calls; and for your information Very Special Agent McGee, Delilah called me, seems she was worried about a certain someone, sensed something was wrong…oh boy, wait 'til I call Abby."

Tony's calls set in motion a routine they settled into quickly; for the thirty-six hours since Tim had woken up there had been lots of visits to the hospital, attempts to re-focus on work and a sense of overwhelming relief that Tim truly had turned the corner. He was still incredibly weak and Dr Henley had warned them his recovery would be slow.

"His body has taken a real beating, to all intents and purposes he was being attacked from the inside, we've never come up against anything quite like this before so we're learning how best to deal with it as we go. We're going to give Tim another round of dialysis just to be sure there are no impurities left in his bloodstream. From then on it's lots of rest, IV vitamin K, a special diet, we'll start him on physical therapy to deal with the slight atrophy in his muscles, then more rest." He'd smiled as he tried to allay the fear he could still see on their faces. "He's going to be fine, you just need to know it won't be an overnight recovery, he'll need lots of support, but I'm guessing that's not going to be a problem."

_Eleven Days Later_

The morning was bright and clear, the air fresh after the storm they'd endured the previous day. Arlington's neat lawns and rows of white headstones looked as if they'd been polished for the occasion.

"You warm enough Tim?" Tony stooped to disengage the brake on Tim's wheelchair.

"I'm fine thanks. Tony, I really don't need this thing, I can walk."

"No way! Doc Henley only gave permission for you to come if we promised you'd use the chair. Enjoy the ride, I'm a pretty good driver." He manoeuvred the chair along the winding pathways from the parking lot to the newly prepared plots where Gibbs and the others were waiting. It had been touch and go whether Tim would be allowed out of the hospital for the interments, and only Ducky's powers of persuasion had convinced Dr Henley that his patient would be in good hands and wouldn't over-exert himself.

As he pushed the chair Tony felt like he had a new spring in his step, such high spirits were out of place on such a solemn occasion but he couldn't help it. Tim might have a way to go with his recovery, and the very fact his black suit looked at least two sizes too big bore witness to the struggle he'd been through, but he was getting stronger little by little every day.

As Dr Henley had predicted Tim hadn't lacked for support throughout his recovery to date. Every member of the team had spent time with him, cajoled him into eating, lifted his spirits when he felt as if things were moving too slowly, and offered him a supporting hand when he made his first faltering attempts to walk. There had been visits from Penny and Sarah, his mother too, and delighted as Tim was to see them he'd insisted they spent no more than two days with him, certain in his own mind that his father needed their support more than he did. Delilah had already been on her way when Tim woke up, and she was going nowhere until he was ready to leave the hospital. She'd stayed away today, knowing this was something Tim had to do with his team, with the people who'd helped get justice for all the victims of Cantwell's murderous scheme.

Tim received a warm but muted welcome when Tony steered the chair to the space beside Abby, they were all happy he'd been given permission to attend, yet they also knew laying two brave men to rest alongside their fallen comrades was a time of contemplation, not celebration. Arlington National Cemetery always cast its spell on visitors, giving them pause for quiet reflection any minute of any day; when there was a burial the atmosphere became almost impossibly sombre as family and friends gathered to see a loved one join the ranks of heroes.

Ellie had managed to trace Corporal Whately's family, although his father refused to attend, blaming his wife's recent death on their son's disappearance, his brother was there, towering above those standing beside him. Tim smiled sadly as he shook hands with the carbon copy of Goliath, the gentle giant.

"Agent McGee, I can see how much this cost you, but I want to thank you for giving Alan the recognition his service deserves."

"Wasn't just me, everyone here helped."

"So I've been hearing, Agent Gibbs told me it was you who set everything in motion. This means so much, my dad…right now he's hurting, but one day he'll be proud to come here, I'll bring my son too, he's only three…when he's old enough we'll come together and I'll tell him about his uncle Alan, and about Sergeant Mitchell too, they won't be forgotten." Dan Whately turned as they all did when the sound of marching feet echoed through the grounds. "They're here, I should be getting to my seat; you get well soon Agent McGee, and thank you."

Tim managed to stay in control of his emotions as the men he'd known as Goliath and Shorty were laid to rest. With Tony's help he'd managed to stand to honour two American heroes, his pride in their service tempered by deep regret; they were getting the recognition they deserved in death, but where had the great military machine been when they were alive and in need…He took some deep breaths of the fresh, early summer air and made a vow. When he was out of the hospital, he was going to do something to help the people who'd fallen through the cracks, however small it might be, he'd do something.

He swallowed deep as they lifted the flags from the coffins and folded them with care and precision always awarded to this most moving of ceremonies. Tim was shaking as Dan Whately accepted the flag as a new wave of sadness almost overwhelmed him; Robert Mitchell had no family, no one to take his flag.

"Tim…Tim." Tony's whisper pulled him out of his reverie and he looked up to see a ramrod-straight Marine holding out the flag.

"For me…? But…isn't there someone…from his platoon, someone better?"

Tony helped him stand, and made no attempt to hide the tears in his eyes as Tim accepted the token of a nation's debt and acknowledged the salute.

"After what you did for them Tim, what you went through, I'd say there's none better."

THE END

Author's Note: My thanks to everyone who has taken the time to share their thoughts on this story, Gail and Katy, I couldn't reply personally so here's your "thank you!" It's been a slightly rocky road to get this story to the finish line, I just hope the ending didn't disappoint.


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